


A New World

by smutty_claus



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Community: smutty_claus, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-15
Updated: 2008-12-15
Packaged: 2017-10-02 12:23:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 47,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smutty_claus/pseuds/smutty_claus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With Kingsley determined to establish a fair political climate in a post-Voldemort world, Hermione finds herself forced to spend time with Lucius Malfoy, who is working toward his own ulterior goals.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A New World

**Author's Note:**

> Are you the author of this story and just got your own AO3 account? Email me at: smuttyclausmods@gmail.com and I will edit the author name to reflect your new account!

** To: Leni Jess  
From: Your Secret Santa **

**Title:** A New World  
**Author:** [Ginny___Weasley](http://ginny---weasley.livejournal.com/)  
**Pairing:** Lucius/Hermione  
**Summary:** With Kingsley determined to establish a fair political climate in a post-Voldemort world, Hermione finds herself forced to spend time with Lucius Malfoy, who is working toward his own ulterior goals.  
**Rating:** NC 17  
**Warnings:** None.  
**Author's notes:** HUGE Thank-you to L., C., and A. Your input was indispensable. Also, thank-you to r_becca, for being such a great mod.

leni_jess, I tried to give you the plot-filled, functional Lucius/Hermione with no Ron that you asked for. You gave the two of them working on establishing a political middle ground as a prompt, and I combined that with J. K. Rowling's statement that Hermione helped eradicate many of the Pro-Pureblood laws. I also tried very hard to incorporate the rest of your request for this pairing, and I hope you're happy with the outcome.

Both canon and AU fans alike can enjoy this, I think. I truly hope you enjoy it, leni_jess! Happy holidays!

**Archiving:** Originally posted [here](http://community.livejournal.com/smutty_claus/108957.html?mode=reply).

~

"Victoire, put that down!"

"No, Fred, _don't._"

"Where has Teddy got to? He was just there a moment ago."

"Maybe he's pretending to be a table."

"Don't be ridiculous. Metamorphmagi can't be tables." A pause. "_Can_ they?"

"Slughorn was an armchair when I first met him. Did I tell you?"

"Daddy, she hit me!"

"Did not!"

"Did so!"

"Not exactly the easiest place to concentrate, is it?" a voice whispered in Hermione's ear.

Hermione looked up from the mound of paperwork in front of her as Percy grinned and sat in the chair beside her. "No, it isn't. How did you do it, with all your siblings around?"

Percy shrugged. "I guess I complained a lot."

"That never worked on my friends." She sighed. "Do you think anyone'll notice if I sneak out? I've got an awful lot to do."

"Why'd you come, then?"

"Ginny made me promise. She said that if we were to have a family gathering, all the family had to be there. Never mind that I'm not actually married to your brother, yet, or that _he's_ off hunting dragons with Charlie. Getting something for George to make the next batch of Weasley's Wizard Whatevers. And, of course, George couldn't go because he's got to run the shop." She held her head in her hands. "I'm never going to get this done."

"Hermione!" Ginny called, weaving her way through the children to Hermione. "_There_ you are. I've been looking for you." She looked at the parchment-strewn tabletop and laughed. "You've really got to learn to leave work behind sometimes." Waving across the room, she called, "Harry! Over here. Come tell Hermione to join in the fun."

"Thanks, but I don't have time for it," Hermione said. "Percy, you tell them how crazy it is in our department right now."

"She's right," Percy agreed. "It's mental in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. But we're glad to finally have her with us." He looked at Hermione. "Minister Shacklebolt was thrilled when you decided to move on from that House-Elf thing. I must say, you're much better employed helping us iron out the laws now You-Know-Who is gone."

"I think it's safe to say his name now," Harry said, wrapping an arm around Ginny's waist. "It's been two years."

Hermione waved her wand, rolling up her parchments, and organizing them into one tidy pile. "Thank-you for inviting me," she said, getting to her feet, "but I really need to get this done, or else the Minister will have my head."

"What, exactly, is so pressing?" Ginny asked.

"We have monthly inspections in two days, remember? And-"

"Ah, yes," Percy chimed in. "But don't you think it's rather pointless to let the lot of them know we're coming? Gives them time to hide all the Dark Magic items they might be hoarding."

Hermione privately agreed with that sentiment. Ever since Kingsley Shacklebolt was nominated Minister of Magic, the laws regarding Dark Magic paraphernalia, especially in former Death Eater and Death Eater sympathizers' homes, had become strict and closely regulated. Simply put, they weren't allowed to have anything that the Ministry considered dangerous, for fear of any of them deciding they wanted to follow in Voldemort's footsteps and do a better job of it besides.

Among the ways of ensuring those who had avoided Azkaban followed the law was thorough inspections of those wizards' homes, using a variety of spells to find anything hidden. As assistant to the Head of the Magical Law Enforcement Squad, Hermione had to oversee each and every one of those inspections.

"And," Hermione went on, "I'm meant to be trying to fix a lot of the Pro-Pureblood laws that are still on the books. They go back ages, did you know?"

"'Pro-Pureblood laws'?" Ginny echoed.

"Yes. The sort that give Purebloods special rights and privileges and leaves the rest of us out. It's astounding what they can get away with, and no one ever even knew."

"_I_ did," Percy said.

"To nobody's surprise," Ginny remarked. "But I've heard a bit about them, too. Only Mum and Dad said nobody follows them anymore.

"And we're trying to keep it that way. There's so many law books to go through," Hermione went on. "It's strange, though, to have been given so much power." She decided not to add her thoughts about the pressure that power put on her shoulders.

"Oh, it just shows Shacklebolt trusts you," Harry said.

"And I can't let him down," Hermione responded. "And I have to have them done as soon as possible. Kingsley doesn't want to take any chances. I'm supposed to have the first draft of at least one law to him tomorrow. So with that, and the inspections to prepare for, I really ought to be leaving."

Ginny sighed. "Fine. I guess that's important enough to forgive you. But you have to promise to come to the next get-together."

"Or at least to dinner," Harry added. "We miss seeing you around here."

"Promise," Hermione agreed. "Just as soon as my workload eases off a bit."

In the privacy of her own sitting room, Hermione spread out her parchments, retrieved the relevant law books, and began work on reconstructing one of the unfair laws. It was late in the evening before her sight became bleary, forcing her to take a break. She was starving, but she wanted to be sure she had everything sorted before she afforded herself the luxury of food.

Standing, Hermione stretched her muscles as she walked to her fireplace. She lit a fire, threw in a handful of Floo powder, and spoke Percy's address, placing her head in the centre of the flame.

Percy's sitting room was dark and empty. Hermione opened her mouth to call out to him, and got a mouthful of hot ash in reward. Coughing and choking, she spat and stuck her head farther into the room, out of range of the flames. She sucked in mouthfuls of cold air, trying to cool her mouth down.

When the burn had subsided, she called, "Percy! Are you here?"

No response.

"Percy? It's Hermione."

Footsteps signalled someone's approach.

Percy entered the room, looking more than a little confused at finding Hermione's head in his fireplace. "What are you doing here?" he asked.

"I need your advice. I've been staring at this law all evening, and I need a fresh pair of eyes to tell me if what I've come up with is fair."

"Oh?" Percy asked, looking pleased with himself. "Of course. I would be delighted to offer my expertise."

Hermione restrained herself from rolling her eyes. Percy was very good at what he did, and he had a remarkable head on his shoulders, but an expert he was not. Instead of pointing this out, however, she said, "Great. Can you come over now?"

"Yes. Give me one moment. Shall I come through Floo, or would you prefer me to Apparate?"

"Floo, if you don't mind. It's easier that way because I've got anti-Apparation spells in place, remember?"

"Oh. Yes, of course I remember. I'll be right over."

Hermione withdrew her head from the fire, her stomach churning, and her head feeling like it was rattling as it settled back onto her body. Groaning, she went into her kitchen and had a glass of cold water to cool her burning mouth. After she was done with the laws and the inspections, she decided, she was going to come up with an easier way for wizardkind to communicate.

The sound of coughing drew her attention back into the sitting room, where Percy was brushing soot off his robes, complaining about the unavoidable dirt that always accompanied Floo travel. There was hardly enough to be upset about, but over the years, Hermione had grown used to Percy's fussiness.

"Thanks for coming," she said. "The scroll is in the centre of the table there. All the other stuff are the old laws. Would you like something to drink or eat? I was going to make something for myself, eventually, and it's no trouble to make it for two."

"No, thank you. I've already had dinner. This parchment here, you say?" He picked up the parchment, settled into her couch, and began to read.

Hermione tried not to hover as he read; she knew how annoying it was to constantly have someone over one's shoulder. She stayed clear of the sitting room to remove the temptation, occupying herself in the kitchen instead.

She couldn't decide what to cook; her mind was too focused on the events of the coming days. But her stomach growled its insistence that she have _something,_ and so she had a quick bite of leftovers before getting back to preparations for the Preemptive Investigations.

It wasn't until after she'd cooked and eaten her dinner that she returned to the sitting room, where Percy was just finishing the parchment. He looked up as he set it back on the table.

"It looks great to me," he said. "Much better than what others I could name might have done."

"What do you mean?"

With a long suffering sigh, he said, "Oh, I love him, but consider Ron. He would have said something along the lines of, 'The previous law is revoked', and not been very specific at all."

Hermione blinked. As tired as her mind was, she found herself thinking that might have been both easier and cleverer. However, she realized, saying something that vague might make matters worse. What about the parts of the laws that were fair? Would those be revoked, too? And potential loopholes? Better to write the new legislations as tightly as possible.

"I see," she said. "Well, thank you very much, Percy. You know I always appreciate your perspective."

"Yes." He stood and yawned. "I'd best be getting home. As you know, I have work in the morning." He turned to go, but stopped. "Hermione, you know I'm not one to give unsolicited advice, but I have to tell you that you really ought to get some rest. You're looking very tired these days."

Hermione bit back the urge to throw a veiled insult back at him. If it had been anyone else, she would have. But she'd come to realize that what others said with the intent to be rude, Percy said with the intent to be helpful, and usually didn't know it could be taken the wrong way. Instead of taking offence, Hermione smiled and said, "I'll do that. Thanks. Sleep well."

"You too," he said as he threw a handful of Floo powder into the fireplace and vanished in a flurry of flames.

Hermione left her work on the table and went to bed.

The next morning, Hermione ate a quick breakfast, gathered all the paperwork, and Apparated to the Ministry. As soon as she arrived, she sent the revised law to Shacklebolt's office. She settled at her desk, pulling a smaller stack of folders toward her: the assignments for the next days' investigations.

The first folder she opened was that of Goyle Sr., who had spent the previous two years in Azkaban, but had been released when a Ministry investigation had determined that he was not a threat: he would follow if led, but lacked the ambition and willpower to try anything of his own accord. Hermione looked at the address listed as his residence and frowned. It wasn't where he'd lived two years before.

_Of course_, she suddenly realized. _His son accidentally set fire to it. He's had to move. _

She set the folder aside and reached for the next. It was barely open when someone knocked on her open office door. She looked up at her boss.

"Good morning, Frank," she said. "I was just-"

"Whatever it is can wait," he interrupted. "Shacklebolt wants to see you right away. Said something about Anti-Pro-Pureblood laws."

Hermione was surprised. Why was he calling her so soon? Hadn't he read it? Trying to appear calm, she said, "Yes, of course. I have them right here."

She picked up her pile of parchments and hurried to the lift. It took a few moments before it clanged onto her level, several paper airplanes entering and exiting the open gates as she stepped in. Hermione, anxious to know what Shacklebolt thought, grew more and more annoyed at each stop the lift made. She almost flew out when it finally arrived at the correct floor.

Shacklebolt's office was minimally decorated. He had a desk with one chair on one side and two on the other. A few portraits watched from the walls, but otherwise the room was empty. He smiled at her as she entered.

"Good morning, Hermione. How are you today?"

"Bit tired," she said, as she sat. "But I've managed to get one of the more complicated laws re-written." She was going to mention she sent it to him as soon as she'd arrived, but she saw it on his desk and kept quiet.

"Are you ready for tomorrow's investigations?"

"Nearly. I was just going through the files." She hesitated, then asked, "Sir, did you... Have you had time to read the law I re-wrote?"

"Yes." He smiled again. "And it's is good. But we're going to need something else."

Hermione frowned, her stomach sinking. "What do you mean? I did exactly what you asked."

"Yes," he agreed. "You got rid of Pureblood favouritism, which, as you said, is exactly what I wanted. The trouble is..." Shacklebolt sighed. "I don't want to make the same mistake as Scrimgeour and Fudge. I don't want to isolate any group of people in our world. That means I don't want to show favouritism to any specific group. Not in law, or in practice."

"Okay." Hermione wasn't sure where he was going with this.

"Are you familiar with Muggle history, Hermione?"

The topic change was jarring. "Erm, yes. But what-"

"Do you remember anything about the start of their World War Two?"

Still not understanding, she answered, "Vaguely. But-"

"No, I guess it's more to do with how they ended the first World War. They put a lot of restrictions on Germany, and ordered them to pay a lot of money they didn't have. And, if I remember right from the Muggleborns I've spoken with recently, some Muggles believe that if those restrictions had been fairer, the second war might not have happened as it did. What they're getting at is that the winning countries should have made Germany part of the process, instead of insisting they give up so much."

Hermione was starting to get a better picture of what he meant. "I understand. But what does that have to do with-"

"The Germans - some of them, at least - were hurting. Mostly their pride. So when someone came along who promised them the world, they were eager to follow him, whatever the cost or demand. I don't want something like that happening here. We've had two Dark Lords. We don't need a third. Or a Dark Lady."

"Are you saying taking away the Pro-Pureblood laws might do to us what it did to the Muggles?"

"I'm saying it's a possibility. We have former Death Eaters at large, some because we've released them, and some because they are on the run. There are others who never officially joined, but who wouldn't oppose anyone who might decide they aren't happy with the way I run the Ministry. I want to stop any dissent before it starts. And that means making a little adjustment to the way we change these laws."

"How?"

"The only other person to draft any laws in the last two years has been Frank. And neither of you has ever been a Death Eater, or is even Pureblood. I don't want to give those factions that still oppose me any reason to think I am favouring you because of our history. I think you should consult a Pureblood on these laws, just to show the people I am being fair. From what I've read, he or she wouldn't have to do much. You've done an excellent job."

Hermione smiled. "But I _did_ consult a Pureblood."

Kingsley raised an eyebrow, impressed. "You did? Who?"

"Percy Weasley. He said it was perfect."

It was Kingsley's turn to smile. "That's good. The trouble is, I have to look at it from all sides. The Weasleys are all good friends with Harry Potter. So are you. To former Death Eaters, and other people who still think like them, it will look like I'm favouring Harry and his friends, and putting you above the rest of the wizarding world. As the Minister, I can't have that. Harry is not in charge here, and, unlike Scrimgeour, I'm not interested in using Harry to further my own agenda. _I_ am the Minister, and everyone has to know it. And they have to know that, as Minister, I will be fair."

"So... You want me to ask someone else?" Hermione nodded. "I can do that." She thought back to Hogwarts years. "I think the Patil twins-"

"They are still too close to Harry. We need someone who isn't. Someone to represent those who didn't necessarily support Harry in the war. That way, they won't be able to argue that they are being oppressed."

Hermione frowned, trying to understand was Kingsley was getting at. As she thought over his words, it dawned on her, and her stomach clenched. She didn't like where this had gone. "You want me to talk to a _Death Eater?_ About fair laws in the wizarding world? No Death Eater will agree to anything that gives the rest of us rights. And besides, how can they be upset? We're not taking away their rights. Just certain privileges they shouldn't have had in the first place."

"Privileges many have come to regard as rights. We can get away with taking some of them, but most of them won't be lost without a fight."

"No Death Eater is going to cooperate."

"I need you to see that one does. You represent one distinct group in our world. The former Death Eaters represent a very distinct different one. You will bring two different perspectives to this, and therefore the laws will be fairer because more than one person's point of view will have gone into creating them. Of course, if you think you'd rather not, I'll ask someone else to do it."

Hermione couldn't stand the thought of someone else getting the credit for her hard work. And what troubled her just as much, if not more, was the idea that, if she refused, she might lose face in Kingsley's eyes. He would start to see her as less capable than others, she was sure of it. Even if he didn't, though, she would forever regret letting this pass her by because she was convinced it was impossible. Thinking back over all the "impossible" things she'd done in her life, this should be downright easy by comparison.

"You don't have to do that," Hermione said. "I can handle it."

Kingsley beamed. "I knew you could."

"Is this someone... Will whoever I choose be a member of the Ministry?"

"No. The person you choose will be... You will work together on the laws before they are sent to my other advisors in other parts of our community for approval. He or she will not have any authority here. They are solely to collaborate with you. If you don't approve the laws, they are pointless. However, if whoever you choose doesn't support what you've done, then you'll have to work together to come up with something you can both live with." He sighed. "I have one more requirement. I ask that you choose one whose name is likely to mean something to the others. And that it is a former Death Eater, instead of, say, merely a Voldemort sympathizer."

He was right; that was severely limiting. But she knew she'd just have to do it. "I understand. I'll have the revised version for you soon." She stood. "If there's nothing else, I need to finish preparing for the investigations tomorrow."

"There's nothing else," Kingsley assured her.

Picking up her stack of parchments, Hermione left and returned to her office. As she regained her seat, she had to admire what Kingsley was trying to do. Admiration aside, however, she still had to figure out which Death Eater she should approach. She thought about it for several minutes and concluded that it might be better if Kingsley just risked seeming unfair. The rest of the wizarding world would know he did the right thing. What could a few unhappy wizards do? She sighed; she knew first hand what a few unhappy wizards could do. Coming up with no viable options, she pushed that task to the back of her mind, choosing to see to the investigations first. Pulling the stack of folders to her, she read the one she'd left open.

It was Lucius Malfoy's file, covering the previous two years. For the first few months, the investigating Ministry members had consistently found Dark artifacts hidden throughout his home. More recently, however, that had stopped. Hermione noticed the Ministry official who had recorded the first investigations had noted Malfoy's unpleasant demeanor and, in the last few records, she herself had written about an elevation in his levels of agitation. Hermione wondered if perhaps Malfoy had gone back to hiding banned items. She made a note to pay close attention to him during the investigation, and moved on.

The Preemptive Investigations began at dawn the next day. Hermione and her team went from house to house, turning them upside down with spells, enchantments, and Muggle-style searches to find any Dark Magic related items. They had no significant trouble until they arrived at Malfoy manor.

Hermione had not yet got over her apprehension of this place. It was where she had been tortured, nearly to death. And, though the person responsible for it was long dead, a shiver ran down her spine as she approached the gate.

The iron bars turned into a mouth. In a clanging, metallic voice, it demanded, "State your purpose."

"Hermione Granger, Department of Magical Law Enforcement in the Ministry of Magic. Here for the Preemptive Investigation."

If Hermione hadn't known better, she'd have sworn the gate was considering her. Then, it swung open on creaking hinges to allow Hermione and her team of two witches and two wizards onto the grounds. An albino peacock watched them from a distance, and then strutted away as if he was too good to bestow his gaze on them for long. Hermione led her team to the front door, where she knocked, waited, and knocked again.

The door opened a crack. Then, it opened fully to reveal Lucius Malfoy, who was tired, but doing his best to appear otherwise. His face was drawn, but the rest of him was as immaculate as usual.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Malfoy," Hermione greeted with as much authority as she could. "We're here to-"

"I know why you're here," Malfoy cut in. "Come in and get it over with."

Hermione stepped inside. She watched as her team of investigators immediately set to work scouring the manor, using both spells and their hands to reveal or move anything that might be or conceal Dark artifacts. She chose not to help, instead watching Malfoy for signs that they might be closing in on something he didn't want found.

Malfoy, however, betrayed nothing of what he was feeling or thinking. Hermione knew he didn't like these intrusions. But Malfoy also knew that this was the price of his freedom, and therefore he endured the searches, though not without protest. This time, though, he raised no objection. Though Hermione found that curious, she didn't dwell on it; she wouldn't worry unless they found Dark artifacts.

Looking at Malfoy's mutinous expression made Hermione wonder if these investigations were a good idea after all. Perhaps these sorts of searches might lead to what happened to the Muggles in Germany all those years ago, too. Though she knew they only affected a very small percentage of the population, and would last only until wizardkind felt sure that there would not be another resurrection of Voldemort, nor a resurgence of his regime in those who followed him, she knew there was a better way.

And, like lightning out of a cloudless blue sky, an idea struck her.

"That's enough for now," she told her team. "Check outside. We don't want to miss anything buried on the grounds."

Hermione didn't genuinely believe Malfoy would have buried anything outside, but it would take her team a while to cover the grounds, and that gave her the time she needed.

"Mr. Malfoy, I have a deal I want to make with you. I need your help. And I can help you in return."

Malfoy didn't even do her the courtesy of looking mildly interested. "And why would I be interested in either of those things?"

"Because I can stop these investigations."

Malfoy's expression remained just as unreadable. "You? _You_ can tell that fool Minister of Magic to alter his policies?"

"Tell? No. But I can persuade him. _If_ you agree to help me. You wouldn't even have to do anything, really."

Narrowing his eyes, Malfoy asked, "You need my help, but don't require me to do anything? Your logic is... illogical."

"Please, just listen to what I have to say. We're working on adjusting a few of the laws so that they're fairer to everyone. Most of them are old, antiquated, and don't really matter anymore, anyway. We're also writing brand new laws. New world, new society, new laws, you know? I'll do all the work, so we won't have to work together at all. I just need you to say you support the changes, and then I'll speak to Kingsley about these searches. That's it. Simple, no?"

"A bit _too_ simple. What are these laws?"

"Like I said, old ones. They're entirely out of date and unfair. We're just trying to make everything more equal, for all witches and wizards."

A smirk tugged at Malfoy's lips. "And why would I be interested in that? All wizards are _not_ equal, and I would not support a law that speaks to the contrary."

"Even if it means these investigations stop?"

"Forgive me, but I hardly think a child such as you is capable of swaying the Minister of Magic himself."

"But I'm capable of earning his trust to draft laws that affect the entire wizarding world," Hermione shot back. "I don't believe _you've_ had that kind of authority with any of the last Ministers."

"True," Malfoy agreed. "I had better things to do than be at the beck and call of someone else."

This was getting off track. "Look," Hermione said. "This wasn't supposed to be an argument. It's supposed to be a deal. And if I can't get Kingsley to change his mind, you won't be any worse off than you are now, will you?"

"But _you_ will have what it is you wanted. That is more a favour than a deal. And I am not inclined to do any favours for a...witch born to Muggles."

Hermione ignored the insult and thought quickly. She couldn't afford to take offence; if she didn't convince Malfoy now, it was likely she wouldn't get the chance again. Not for another month. And she couldn't wait that long.

"But... But even if Kingsley refuses, it will help you. Think how most of our society will look at you. Instead of a former Death Eater whose wife and son left the country to avoid the shame of their past, you'll be a champion for human rights and for fairness. Your name will be gold again."

Malfoy's expression became closed once more. "My wife and son did not leave out of shame."

Hermione was cleverer than that, but held her tongue; arguing would not help her. Instead, she said, "Your name will still be gold again."

"That is not a sound enough reason for me to consider an alliance of any sort with you. I am not so easily convinced. And if this is the manner in which you intend to speak to the Minister, I have little doubt you will be unsuccessful there, as well."

"Think how much influence you'll have," Hermione blurted out. "You'll be a consultant to the Minister himself. Don't you miss that kind of power?."

"A job, working under idiots like Shacklebolt and alongside people like _you._ Yes. I can see how that might appeal to me."

Hermione didn't miss the sarcasm, but chose to ignore it. "If you just _think_ about-"

"There is nothing to think about. You'd do well to complete your investigation instead of harassing me."

Hermione wanted to keep pressing the point; it wasn't in her nature to just give up at a little opposition. Or, at a lot of opposition. But she could think of nothing to say that might change Malfoy's mind. Though she had every intention of continuing this debate once she thought of a new angle, she fell silent.

When her team returned, they searched the rest of the house before declaring it clear. The upstairs was easier than usual; much of what had been there previously was gone. Rooms that had clearly been occupied before were bare. Malfoy was even more disgruntled than usual as they searched over those places, but when they turned up clear of Dark artifacts, Hermione didn't wonder why; she had other thoughts on her mind.

She had hoped to have thought of something new by the time they finished, but no alternative arguments had crossed her mind. With great reluctance, and still willing herself to come up with something, she turned to go.

"Miss Granger."

She turned back toward Malfoy. "Yes?"

"I've changed my mind. I'll consider supporting your laws. I will, of course, need to see them, first."

"Of course," Hermione agreed. Though she'd rather he just give his support and make the whole thing easier, she could hardly object to his wanting to know what it was he was supporting. "But, why'd you change your mind?"

"Do you want an explanation? Or would you prefer my assistance? You cannot have both."

She didn't have much choice. "I'll take your help."

"Very well. You can send your owl whenever you like."

"It doesn't work that way," Hermione explained. "We have to come up with something we both agree on, and if we only communicate with owls, it will take much longer."

"I see." He considered for a moment. "Well, then, I guess there's only one alternative. We will have to meet in person."

Hermione nodded. "Fine. Where? I won't meet you here." It was all she could do to stand inside the room; she didn't want to spend time discussing, or, as was more likely to be the case, debating, wizarding laws in that place.

"And I would never dream of inviting you here. I think Hogsmeade would be a more agreeable place."

"Fine. When?"

"I have a very busy schedule. I'll send you an owl with a convenient time."

"You're not the only one with a hectic life," Hermione countered. "What works for you might not work for me. So let's say this Sunday at noon. Does that work?"

Malfoy looked off to her side, as if trying to remember something. Then, he said, "Yes. That will work."

"Good." She turned and left with her team.

"What was that about?" Lisa asked.

"I wish I knew," Hermione answered, throwing a suspicious glance back at the manor. "Who's next?"

~*~  
~*~*~*~  
~*~*~*~  
|| 

When Hermione arrived in Hogsmeade on Sunday, she began to regret her choice of time and place. She'd forgotten how busy the village could be. _This is what I get,_ she thought, _for spending so much time in London, and not enough here. _

She searched the area for Malfoy, but didn't see him. A knot formed in her stomach. She felt a combination of dread and anxiousness; despite Malfoy's agreement, something inside her insisted this would be a difficult, if not impossible, task.

She and Malfoy hadn't agreed upon a place, so she shouldered her bag and wandered along the High Street, memories of her days at school flowing back like water broken free of a dam. She paused at the Hog's Head. She hadn't been inside much since the war. Wondering if Aberforth would mind a visit, she made to step inside.

A loud _crack_ stopped her in her tracks. She turned to see Malfoy stalking up the High Street toward her, a plain black cloak covering his clothing, the hood pulled up to conceal his face, but she recognized him easily. She let go of the door to the Hog's Head, and walked out to meet him.

"Hello," she said, trying to sound polite. She didn't want to give Malfoy any reason to object to her behaviour and call off their deal.

He raised an eyebrow. "The Hog's Head, Miss Granger? I must admit, I never thought of you as one who would frequent that particular establishment."

"Not that it's your business, but I was just going to say hello to an old friend. We can-"

"An old friend? Surely you don't mean that unstable barman?"

Hermione frowned. "Aberforth is _not_ unstable. He saved my life more than once. _And_ he helped us sneak into the castle to defeat your Dark Lord. Without getting caught. He fooled your lot into thinking a stag was a goat. If you ask me, he's a lot more cunning than you ever were."

"And yet, it is _my_ assistance that you requested. I would suggest you watch your tone, or I might withdraw my offer."

Hermione paused for the briefest of seconds. She could let that go, or she could call his bluff. Not wanting to let him think he had an advantage over her, she said, "You wouldn't be here if you didn't want my help, too. But if you want to go, then go. I'll find another wizard who is tired of having the Ministry look through his underpants."

It was a blatant lie. She didn't know who else she might ask who could carry the potential clout the Malfoy name still possessed. Hermione worried that Lucius might, in turn, call her bluff. But losing his support was better than begging for it.

They glared at each other like dogs in a territorial standoff. At last, Malfoy blinked.

"The Hog's Head, then?"

"If you want," Hermione said, fighting back a smile of triumph; there was no need to provoke him.

He gestured her ahead of him, and she entered the bar. Aberforth stood behind the counter as usual, the faint smell of goats wafting around him. He glanced up as Hermione and Malfoy entered, gave them a look that told Hermione he didn't think much of her choice of company, then returned to what he was doing.

"Hello, Aberforth," Hermione said, smiling at him.

He grunted his greeting as he pulled three bottles of Butterbeer out for the three people sitting at the bar.

"Charming man," Lucius remarked. "It's clear why you would count him among your friends."

"He's a good man," Hermione insisted, though she couldn't argue that Aberforth might seem a little rude to those who didn't know about his sister. Pointing at a table, she said, "Let's sit there." Without waiting for an answer, she strode over and took a seat.

Malfoy took his time joining her, moving at what Hermione supposed he thought was a dignified pace. When he joined her, he looked at the grime on the window with a look of distaste so pronounced that, for a moment, Hermione thought she was looking at Draco.

"Erm," she said, clearing her throat. "Right. There are a lot of laws to sort through, and I don't want to spend a lot of time with you any more than you want to spend it with me. So..." She opened her bag and pulled out a draft of one law. "Here's one of them. It's not very long, and it will give you an idea of what I plan to do with the rest." She held it out to him.

He took it and read in silence. To Hermione's frustration, Malfoy remained expressionless as he came to the bottom of a section, unrolled the scroll a bit more, and read on. At last, he set the scroll down and looked at her.

"This law removes the Purebloods' right to control the Wizengamot," he stated.

"Yes, exactly," Hermione agreed. "I didn't even know there was a law on the books that said they could. I mean, I'd expected it would be that way when Voldemort was around, but this predates even him."

"And you wish me to approve a law that does not allow Purebloods to run our own society."

"It's not just _your_ society," Hermione protested. "And nowhere in there does it say they can't be on the Wizengamot. They just can't _control_ it. In fact..." She picked up the scroll, unrolled it, and turned it around so he could read it. "Right there." She pointed. "Fourth paragraph from the top. It doesn't stop them from being there. It just stops the Wizengamot from being controlled by the racist-"

"Yes, Miss Granger," Malfoy interrupted. "I am quite capable of understanding what I read. As I said, it removes our right to _control._ However, this is our world. We _should_ control it."

"It isn't just _your_ world. It hasn't been for a long time. Anyway, this law isn't applied. Not since Kingsley became Minister. It won't make any difference to how the Wizengamot is run. We just need the law off the books. What's there now isn't fair, but _this is._ If we don't change it, officially, anyone can come along and say that because of this law, they're entitled to-"

"You are quite entertained by the sound of your own voice. I understand what you are doing, but I cannot agree with it."

"But it won't _change_ anything. We're not taking away anyone's-"

"I _might_ reconsider," Malfoy said thoughtfully. "If you were to make an adjustment."

Hermione wasn't sure she liked the sound of that. "What adjustment would that be?"

"Give us the majority."

"How would that be fair? What I have is as fair as it's possible to be. One third Pureblood, one third Halfblood, and one third Muggleborn. That way no one can argue that they didn't get a fair hearing because of blood-"

"Once again. My mind grasps this without assistance. But the fact remains-"

"The fact remains that you can't handle anything that doesn't cater to you," Hermione shot. "You want a society that would crawl fifty miles on broken glass just to sweat in your shadow. It may have been like that once, but times have changed. This is a new world, and you have to adjust. No one is going to cling to the past to make you feel better." She grabbed the parchments on the table and stuffed them into her bag. Getting to her feet, she said, "If you won't be reasonable, I have nothing more to say to you. I have much too much to do to argue with you over this."

"Sit down," Malfoy said calmly.

"Why should I? This meeting isn't going anywhere."

"_Sit_," he repeated. "Or I promise you, there isn't a Pureblood in Britain who will agree to so much as _consider_ your proposal."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "You really think you have that much influence?"

"Would you like to find out?"

Hermione wasn't sure she did. The truth was, Kingsley had been very clear in what type of witch or wizard needed to support these laws, and that small group of people was likely to be close enough to Malfoy that if he ordered them to do something, they would obey.

With as much dignity as she could display, Hermione sat.

"I think we can reach a compromise," Malfoy said.

"I'm _not_ changing it so that the Purebloods-"

"I have another idea in mind."

"Yeah?" Hermione was suspicious. "What's that?"

"You are acquainted with Dolores Umbridge, are you not?"

"Unfortunately. But what's she got-"

"During her time in the Ministry, she did more damage than you realize. These laws you're looking to change are not all that you must focus on if you truly want to make life equal in..." He paused. With a sneer, he finished, "Our society."

Hermione felt a chill inside. It was just like Umbridge to do something underhanded. "What else should I look for?"

Malfoy smiled. "Excellent question. And if you wish for an answer, you will have to compromise on the structure of the Wizengamot."

Giving him a look of disgust, Hermione said, "I don't need you to tell me. I can find it on my own."

"That's certainly possible," Malfoy conceded. "But in the time it will take you to discover and change what she did, Pureblood factions throughout Britain can use those laws to undo everything you are trying to do."

"If they do, Kingsley will just say the law was drafted during Voldemort's regime. No one will object to his overruling people like you in favour of the rest of the world."

"Then why bother with these new laws at all? Why not simply say they are the result of antiquated governments and no longer viable? He has instructed you to re-write old laws, and construct brand new ones, has he not? There must be a reason for it."

Hermione couldn't think of an answer right away, and Malfoy didn't give her the time to do so.

"If he is so intent on removing those laws, surely he'd want all others like them purged from the records as well."

Hermione didn't speak. They were doing this to prevent anyone from claiming they had a right to despicable things because of the laws. As Minister, Kingsley needed to be sure every avenue for that behaviour was closed, regardless of whether he thought it likely anyone would take that route. He, and the rest of the wizarding world, couldn't afford to take chances. If there were other laws on the books, and Hermione knew about them and did nothing, she wouldn't be acting in anyone's best interest except the Purebloods who might one day decide they need another leader like Voldemort or Grindelwald.

She didn't want to compromise, but it was a choice between the lesser of two evils: a Pureblood majority in the Wizengamot, or leaving those laws on the books for anyone to take advantage of. She took the draft of the Wizengamot law out of her bag. "I'll give the Purebloods _one_ extra position," she said.

"I do wonder," Malfoy mused, "what if there simply aren't enough of any given group for the Wizengamot?"

"There _will_ be," Hermione assured him. "There are more Muggleborns and half-bloods than there are Purebloods these days." Under her breath, she added, "Probably because _we_ don't insist on marrying our cousins."

"And if one should-"

"I'm not giving the Purebloods more of an advantage," Hermione said. "So if that's what you're angling for, you might as well stop now." She wrote a note for the adjustment on the top of her draft. "There. You have what you wanted. Tell me what Umbridge did."

"In a moment."

Hermione sighed. "What _now?_ You got the majority you asked for."

"I will give you the information you need. And in return, you will see to it that these investigations on my home are ended. That is the deal, correct?"

"Almost. You'll be paid the standard rate of the other consultants, and I also-"

"I am not in need of Ministry money."

"No, but it's better to keep this as business-like as possible." She lowered her voice. "No one knows about our arrangement, and I'd like to keep it that way. If you were to do all this for us for free, it would raise questions. I don't want anyone thinking I handled this improperly." Returning to her normal volume, she said, "The standard pay is-"

"Standard?" Malfoy cut in. "I am worth more than the standard rate."

"You're doing the same thing as the other consultants, why would-"

"Because you need me more than you need them.

Hermione considered telling him that wasn't true, but instead said, "I will talk to Kingsley about increasing the rate for you. I also need you to support the other laws, both re-written and new. If you agree to that, I'm sure I can convince Kingsley to stop the investigations."

Malfoy didn't look pleased. "How many other laws would I need to support?"

"Oh, erm..." Hermione pulled a list of the laws she was going to draft out of her bag. "I've got sixteen here that will need to be re-written. There are probably more I haven't found, yet. And whatever Umbridge did that I have to undo."

Malfoy's nose wrinkled. "And for all those, I must meet with you and give my approval?"

"Well..." Hermione hesitated. "Yes, actually. Or, you could just trust that I'm doing a wonderful job and let me sign your name."

"Amusing," Malfoy drawled in a tone that sounded exactly like his son's. "I rather think not."

"Then, yes, you'd have to meet with me. And if you're getting any ideas, I won't talk to Kingsley until all, or at least most, of these laws are approved."

"I would rather not wait until you draft dozens of laws. Perhaps it would be faster if I do it on my-"

"Stop right there." Hermione saw exactly where he was going. "Nothing gets to Kingsley unless I say so. So you can go off and write whatever you like, but if I don't like it, it doesn't go any farther."

Malfoy gave her a look. "There must be a faster way to accomplish this."

Hermione put the Wizengamot law back into her bag as she said, "I wish there was. But Frank has other things to do, and the higher up the hierarchy you go, the more everyone has to do. I'm on my own with this. You'll just have to be patient."

"Contrary to misguided belief, patience is not a virtue. It is a sign of weak-willed individuals who have neither the ambition nor the courage to achieve their desired goals."

Getting sick of his attitude, Hermione sat back, crossed her arms, and said, "Okay. You know so much? You tell me how to get this done faster, keeping in mind that if you want to take part in this, I have to review it all, which will probably just delay it more."

Malfoy fell silent, lost in his own thoughts. He looked at Hermione, and then off at something only he could see. When he spoke, it was with a grimace so clear, it was as if a Cruciatus met every word. "I suppose... Perhaps... If I'm to support these, it would be more efficient if.... if we worked... together on them."

Hermione raised her eyebrows. She wasn't sure what she'd been expecting, but that wasn't it. "Worked _together?_ You... and me? As in... On the same thing, at the same time, toward the same goal? _That_ kind of worked together? That would be less working and more... _murdering,_ don't you think?"

"Believe me, if there were another, equally expedient, method, I would choose it without question. However, if I will be required to approve each one, it will be much faster to be there while they are being drafted. Then, as each is completed, it will already have my support. And, if we work quickly, it won't take long. Loathe as I am to admit it, this is the best option."

"The best option," Hermione repeated. "To work alongside someone you dislike, and who dislikes you just as much."

"Toward a common goal. Isn't that what you and your lot spout at every opportunity?"

"But it _isn't_ a common goal, Mr. Malfoy. _I_ am working toward a better world. _You_ are working toward your own agenda."

"Yes," Malfoy agreed. "Different priorities, which, at the moment will yield the results we both want. Do you truly care why I help, so long as I do it?"

Hermione didn't answer right away. She thought it over. "I... guess not. If it's the only way to... Then, I guess not."

"Good. I have other plans today. We will have to continue this another time. I will meet you at the Ministry tomorrow at-"

"The Ministry? No. I'm Assistant to the Head of Magical Law Enforcement. I have other duties besides these laws. I don't have the time to sit around with you re-working them all day."

"Then what would you suggest?"

"What's wrong with right here? I'm sure Aberforth wouldn't mind. Plus, it's always really quiet, so we won't be distracted, and-"

"I will not conduct business in this place."

"What do you call what we've been doing?" Hermione countered.

"Discussing the flaws in one draft is quite different from constructing draft after draft for however long it will take to complete this task."

Shrugging, Hermione said, "Fine. But this was your idea. So you tell me where we should meet."

Malfoy thought once again. "The Three Broomsticks."

"It's too crowded and too noisy."

"And?"

"And I can't work under those conditions. Try again."

Malfoy grew quiet again. When the silence began to stretch to an absurdly long period of time, Hermione decided to break it.

"See? It's _got_ to be here. And if you don't want to work on things here, then you'll just have to meet me when I've made some progress." Standing, she shouldered her bag. "Don't worry, though. Shouldn't take more than two months to finish the drafts for the laws I've found."

"Two months," Malfoy drawled. "And-"

"It would be faster if I didn't have to consult with anyone. But this is the way Kingsley wants it. Send your owl when you have time, and I'll see if it fits with my schedule."

Malfoy rose to his feet as well. "If the only way to move this along is to meet with you, then..." He looked as if he'd rather drink a cauldron full of Bobotuber pus than say what he was thinking. "Then it might be best if... If you were to come to my home."

Hermione stared at him. She couldn't tell if he was trying to be funny or not.

"Just long enough to get these new laws settled," Malfoy went on.

Frowning, Hermione said, "You want me to spend time in that horrible place you call a home? With _you?_ You must be very desperate to stop these investigations."

"I would like my privacy back." Muttering, he added, "Treated like a common criminal in my own-"

"You _are_ a common criminal," Hermione cut in. "Death Eaters were _criminals._ And if you think for one moment that I am going back into that place-"

"Haunted by ghosts of screams and remembrances of shadows, Miss Granger?"

"What are you talking about?" Hermione demanded, though she knew exactly to what he was referring.

"Surely you aren't still tormented by memories," Malfoy said. "It was years ago."

"_It_ nearly _killed_ me," Hermione shot. "But no, I'm not still bothered," she lied.

"Then what's the problem?"

"The problem is, I don't want to be in a place where I'm not welcome."

"And, believe me, I don't want you there, either. But we all have to make sacrifices in order to create the world you crave. If your past no longer troubles you, I see no reason we can't each make the sacrifice."

Hermione couldn't refuse without admitting that sometimes, on rare occasions, what Bellatrix had done to her still gave her nightmares. And she couldn't admit _that_ without acknowledging what a pathetic excuse it was for not wanting to enter a building again. Bellatrix may have had power over her that night, but it was foolish to allow the Death Eater to control her actions years later. Hermione was stronger than that.

She cleared her throat and, shifting her weight, said, "Fine. I'm busy all day tomorrow. The day after? In the afternoon?"

"Very well. But I will not wait around my house all day for you. I will let you know the best time."

"Okay. I'll keep the afternoon clear for you."

She spun on her heel and left, feeling sick to her stomach.

~*~  
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_"Lucius Malfoy?"_ Ginny exclaimed, incredulous. "Ergh, that's horrifying. Why'd you choose _him?_"

"Because I couldn't think of anyone else."

Hermione, Ginny and Harry were having dinner together hours after Hermione's meeting with Malfoy.

"But... But... Come _on,_ Hermione. There _has_ to be someone better."

"Like who? There aren't any other former Death Eaters who carry as much influence as he does. It's just our bad luck we're friends with Harry."

"Thanks," Harry said, taking a drink from his Butterbeer bottle.

"That's not what I meant, and you know it."

"You should have joined up as an Auror, like me and Ron," Harry said.

"Yeah," Ginny agreed. "Then you'd be hunting bastards like him, instead of _negotiating_ with them."

"One year of that was enough, thank you. Besides, I think Kingsley has a point. How many Dark witches and wizards have been caught, Harry? They're still out there, and we need to give them as little reason as possible to oppose Kingsley. He's the best leader we could have."

"Well, it's a good thing you've told us," Ginny said. "Now, if something happens to you, we'll know exactly where to look first. When are you going to see him next?"

"Day after tomorrow." She paused, took a breath, and said, "At his manor."

Ginny choked on her broccoli. _"What?"_ she coughed. "Have you _lost your mind?"_

"He's not going to hurt me," Hermione said. "He's not that stupid. I'm only going to be there as long as it takes to get a few of these laws settled, and then I'll leave. I just need his name on them, to show that he was a part of this, and that I consulted with someone outside of Harry's sphere of influence."

Harry opened his mouth to object, but Hermione hurried on.

"Once that's done, I'll never have to speak to him again."

"This is a very bad idea," Ginny pressed. "Think about it. Years from now, when we have kids... What will they think, to look back and see that you consulted with Lucius Malfoy on all this?"

"You think our kids will be reading the news archives for fun, do you?" Harry asked, an amused smile playing at his lips.

"Hermione's might," Ginny countered.

"Yours might, too," Hermione said. "You are Percy's sister, after all."

Ginny and Harry groaned in unison.

"Maybe the Fred, George, and Ron side will win out," Ginny said. Then, getting back to the conversation at hand, said, "If you want my advice, you'll avoid-"

"Leave her alone," Harry cut in. "She's a grown woman. She can make her own decisions."

"Thanks," Hermione said. "Anyway, I just wanted you to know, so you'll know why I'm not around so much in the next few days." Then, as an afterthought, she added, "And knowing where I am doesn't hurt. Just in case, right?"

~*~  
~*~*~*~  
~*~*~*~  
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Tuesday afternoon found Hermione knocking on Malfoy's front door, shoulder bag clutched firmly in her hand like a security blanket. When Malfoy opened the door, he was looking far more worn than she had ever seen him. He seemed exhausted, as if he hadn't slept since their meeting.

Malfoy turned and led the way into the drawing room without so much as a grunt of welcome. Hermione followed just as silently. In his wake, Malfoy left the odor of some strong drink that Hermione couldn't name. It make her nose wrinkle, and was so pungent, she thought she might get tipsy from the smell alone.

In the drawing room, Malfoy did not offer Hermione a chair, leaving her to choose for herself if and where to sit. It didn't escape her notice that, of the many rooms in the manor, Malfoy had chosen the one in which she had been tortured. Instead of letting her discomfort show, she tried to look as if she was at ease, glancing casually about the room. For the first time, Hermione noticed that the chandelier that had fallen that night two years previous had been replaced - and then she realized it was silly not to have assumed as much. On the mantle was a folded bit of parchment that didn't quite lie flat.

There was something wrong in the drawing room, though Hermione couldn't put her finger on what. There was a different feel than the last time she was there, and it made her uneasy. Not wanting Malfoy to think she was having bad memories, Hermione sat down and got straight to business.

"Here's what I've done so far," she said, handing him the new draft of the Wizengamot law, and two other laws she had drafted over the previous days. "I know it's a lot to read through, so I can go and come back later, when you've had a chance to-"

"I have not had a homework assignment since I left Hogwarts," Malfoy said. "I will not be given one in my own home."

Hermione couldn't rid herself of the feeling that something was off in the room, and it made her edgy. "I only meant it might be better if I'm not hovering around while you read. You don't always have to be so rude to me, you know. I've never hurt you, and if it wasn't for me and my friends, your son would have died in that last battle. You can hate me, but you could also at least show some gratitude for that."

Malfoy looked up at her, raised his eyebrows, but said nothing, instead focusing on the parchments in front of him.

"And you still have to tell me what Umbridge did."

"Umbridge? Oh, yes, of course." He waved his wand, and a thin, ledger-like book flew from the corner, straight at Hermione.

With no time to reach for her own wand, she put her hands up to protect her face, but it landed with a soft bounce beside her on the couch.

"If I were going to hurt you," Malfoy said, "it wouldn't be with a book."

Hermione gave him a look of disgust, but said nothing as she opened the book. Inside, in Umbridge's writing, was a list of the laws she'd altered, not only in favour of Purebloods, but also to the clear detriment of Muggleborns. Hermione was shocked to see that the woman had placed restrictions on everything from how, when, and to whom various establishments could serve their food, to how certain departments in the Ministry hired and controlled their employees.

"This is... Where did you find this?"

"I didn't need to _find_ it," Malfoy responded, still focused on the parchments. "She kept a list, and, through a series of hands, it was passed to the Dark Lord. He spent a great deal of time here, and did not take it with him when he went roaming about the world in search of the Elder Wand."

"This is _good,_" Hermione said, standing and starting to pace in excitement. "I mean, without the exact wording I don't know what to write to revoke them, but at least I know where to look. It's a good thing no one is following these right now. At least, not at the Ministry. I wonder if there are other places that are. If they are, they're keeping out of-"

"Do you never tire of hearing your own voice?" Malfoy cut across her. "Or am I just the unfortunate recipient of what should be an _internal_ monologue?"

Hermione placed the ledger book on the mantle, and turned to face Malfoy, preparing for a fight. "I'm sorry. I didn't know you weren't able to read if there was noise around. You did suggest the Three Broomsticks to work on this, remember? But I'll be quiet until you're done."

Malfoy gave her a look of such loathing, that Hermione could almost feel the hate flowing off him. "I think your earlier suggestion was a fine one," he said. "Leave. I will tell you when I have gone through these. You will not be welcome here before then."

"Fine." Hermione Summoned her bag and slid the ledger into it. "And don't act like it's some great insult, you asking me to leave. I can think of a lot more pleasant things I could do with an afternoon. I'll show myself out. Don't get up. Not that you would." She stalked out of the room, straight through the front door, and off the grounds with a pause or a backward glance

.

As soon as she was clear of the grounds, she Apparated home, arriving just outside. She walked in, tossed her bag aside, and sent her Patronus to Ginny, assuring her that she was alive and well.

Hermione was glad to be away from Malfoy's house. Even standing in the familiarity of her own home, she remembered the odd feeling she got in Malfoy's manor. Something strange was going on in that house, and though Hermione wasn't positive what it was, she knew it wasn't evil or related to anything Dark. It was simply... strange. Unusual.

Pushing Malfoy and his manor from her mind, Hermione thought about Ginny's complaint that lately Hermione was all work and no fun. Hermione decided it was high time she visited her parents again. And, after that, she'd drop in on Ginny, and Luna, if she was in town, and the three of them would go find fun together.

~*~  
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|| 

The next morning found Hermione sitting through a very long meeting on the state of security and a briefing about the steps that needed to be taken in order to better protect both the wizarding and Muggle worlds of Britain. Death Eaters and other Voldemort supporters were still at large, and some members of the department were starting to believe that they might have got so desperate that they were hiding amongst the Muggles.

After hours of discussion, Kinglsey dismissed the meeting. As Hermione began to leave the room, he stopped her.

"Can you wait a moment, Hermione? I'd like to speak with you."

"Of course." Hermione paused as the others left, giving her curious looks as they passed her.

Once the room was empty, Kingsley asked, "Have you given any thought to our last discussion?"

Hermione smiled. "Not just _thought._ I've taken care of it."

"Already?"

"Yes. I've talked to Lucius Malfoy, and he's agreed to help."

"Lucius Malfoy?" Kingsley's eyes narrowed, and he frowned. "_He_ agreed?"

"Yes."

"What did he ask for in return?"

"Bit more than the standard rate of pay. Because he knows we need him more than your other advisors for this. I guess because they're expected to, and we're asking him for a favour."

"Yes," Kingsley agreed. "We can make an exception for him. Has he asked for anything else?"

Hermione didn't answer right away. She still hadn't worked out how to tell Kingsley about the deal she'd made with Malfoy.

"Nothing," she said. "I think... I think maybe he just wants to try to elevate his status to where it was before... You know, before the second war."

Kingsley still looked thoughtful. "I see. That's possible. Let me know if he starts demanding favours for his part in this."

"Of course, I will. Right away. Erm, is that all? It's only that I've got so much to do, and-"

"Yes. By all means..." He waved her toward the door to show she was free to leave.

Hermione gathered her notes, and returned to her office.

Where she found Ginny waiting for her.

Ginny had made herself at home in Hermione's chair, and was reading from a folder Hermione had left on her desk.

"What are you doing here?" Hermione asked.

"Came to see Harry," Ginny answered. "But he's busy. Thought you might want to go out to lunch."

"Lunch?" She checked her watch. "Oh. I hadn't realized it was so late."

"Come on," Ginny said. "Today is going to be so dull. Save me from my fate of boredom."

"If it's fate, can you be saved from it?" Hermione teased.

"You can if I say you can. Everyone knows I'm the mistress of fate."

Hermione smiled. "I'd love to, but-"

"No 'but's. Just one hour. You have to eat lunch eventually anyway, right?"

Hermione sighed. "I guess so." She checked her watch again. "I can spare an hour. Let's go."

They Apparated to Hogsmeade and chose the nearly-empty Three Broomsticks. After ordering, they took a table near the back, talking aimlessly before the subject got around to Hermione's work.

"Are you almost done with those laws?" Ginny asked.

"Not nearly. This is going to take a while. Oh. That reminds me." She reached for her bag. "I want to show you something. Malfoy gave me a list of laws that Umbridge snuck in. She wrote them all down, and-"

_"She wrote them all down?"_ Ginny echoed. "Why would she do that?"

"Couldn't say. Malfoy said that it just sort of... passed to Voldemort."

Ginny looked confused. "It just..." Her expression cleared. "Oh, I get it. How pathetic."

"What do you mean?"

"She was trying to impress Voldemort with all the changes she made. I guess running that registration thing wasn't good enough for her. I'd bet anything she thought if she showed Voldemort how petty she could be toward the Muggleborns, he'd like her more and give her a better job."

"Bet that's it," Hermione agreed. "But now _I_ have to do the clean up." She pulled the ledger out of her bag, and a folded piece of parchment slid out and fell to the floor.

Setting the ledger on the table, Hermione bent down to pick the parchment up.

"What's that?" Ginny asked.

"Not sure." Hermione turned it over in her hands. The parchment was crisp, and didn't quite lie flat. "Oh, goodness. This is Malfoy's."

"And it was in your bag because...?"

"I must've accidentally taken it when I picked up the ledger." She made to deposit it back into her bag, but Ginny stopped her.

"Aren't you going to read it?" she asked.

Hermione looked at the parchment, then at Ginny. She felt a moment's curiosity as to the contents. It might hold the explanation of what felt so wrong in the manor. She ran her fingers over it. Then, she shook her head. "It's none of my business."

"But... It could be a letter from Greyback, or the missing Carrow, or another Death Eater. This could be a huge break in tracking them down. And you're just going to put it away?"

"First of all, I doubt very much Greyback can even read, much less write. Second, Malfoy isn't stupid. If it were anything illegal or Dark, he wouldn't leave it sitting out in plain sight, knowing that a Ministry official was coming to his house."

"But... But, aren't you _curious_ about what it is?" Ginny pressed.

"I have much too much to do to worry about Malfoy. It's probably just a letter from Draco, anyway."

"Yes," Ginny agreed. "About how he and Narcissa are building a force to take over the Ministry, and when they come back, that's exactly what they'll do."

Hermione knew Ginny didn't believe that for a moment, and was just trying to come up with an excuse to read the parchment. She laughed. "Draco's Army?"

"It could happen."

"Please. Why don't you just admit you're too nosy for your own good?"

Ginny gave her a skeptical look. "And you're not the least bit curious what's in there?" Before Hermione could answer, Ginny said, "I know. I'll read it, and you won't have to. Then we're both happy."

Hermione considered her. "Okay." She moved closer. "We'll read it."

Ginny took the parchment from Hermione and opened it. Hermione read over Ginny's shoulder, looking for the signature to decide if she wanted to the rest.

"It's just a letter from Narcissa," Hermione said, turning her attention to the ledger. "Told you it wasn't important."

Ginny ignored her, absorbed in the letter. When she finished, she said, "Depends how you define 'important', I think. Okay, well, no, it's not important. But it is interesting." She held out the parchment, a wide grin on her face.

Unable to pretend not to be curious, Hermione took the letter and began to read it.

_My darling Lucius,_

Spain is as gorgeous as ever. I think Draco and I have chosen the best time of year to visit. As I write this, Draco is off courting Astoria. She is a lovely young woman, and I adore her. You would be pleased to know her, and her family would merge seamlessly with ours. Draco has not always shown good judgement or taste in these matters, and I am hopeful he will not let Astoria get away.

Hermione stopped reading. "_This_ is interesting?"

"Keep going," Ginny said.

Sighing, Hermione returned her attention to the letter.

_I am happier here than I thought I could be, given the circumstances. Each day, I feel thrilled to be alive. The wizards and witches here are wonderful, and I have only come across the right sort. Those that mix do not come into this city. The joy I get here has thrown my life into perspective._

Everything that has happened recently - the tension between us, the unpleasantness in the rest of our world, the troubles with Draco - has all led me to an inevitable conclusion.

I will not be returning to England. The events of the past few years have soured my taste for it. I had hoped that time away would allow my feelings to settle, but it has only made the decision I need to make much clearer.

You know how strained things have been in our relationship for a long time now. We thought it would get better, but it is clear to me now that it will not. I don't need to recount the reasons; you know them, and it would only upset us both for me to list them. I will only say that the past cannot be changed, and our future would be miserable if we were to force ourselves to live together for the sake of appearances. I cannot do that for the rest of my life.

And when I consider that, in addition, our name has suffered an irrevocable blow because of our family's connection to the Dark Lord, I see no reason to return.

In Spain, I have the opportunity to leave behind the shame that ties our name to the Dark Lord, and the scandal experienced in the fallout of his defeat. Try as we might, we will never leave the stigma behind, and it is foolish to insist otherwise. With our name so tarnished, and our marriage in the state that it is in, I find I'd rather take this chance to start over. Here, they know nothing of my past, or of the failures of my family. I will not enjoy the privileges the Malfoy and Black names commanded in England, and that is unfortunate, but I will have the chance to build up that respect.

I ask that you not follow me. Your place is in England, and that is where you should remain.

Please don't misunderstand me. I have never been so happy as I was in the years we spent together, and I still hold a great deal of respect for you.

However, times have changed and, as much as I love you, I can no longer be with you. I need this time for myself, to sort through my new life. I prefer to do that on my own, free from any expectations I might have if I brought my old life with me.

It is possible that this time apart will help us find our way back to each other. One day, soon I hope, I might write and ask you to join me. But, for the present, I think it's best if we go our separate ways.

Neither of us wants the spectacle or expense of a divorce, and therefore I will remain in Spain on holiday. That will be the story we stick to, and no one will ever have to know the truth. Eventually, I might return for a short time in the interest of keeping rumours away so that, if Draco should ever decide to live in England again, it is as pleasant and comfortable for him as possible.

You cannot imagine the pain it causes me to write these words to you. I wish I did not have to, but I see Draco moving on with his life, as happy as we could have ever hoped he'd be, and the heartache it gives me tells me I need to do the same.

All my love,

Your Narcissa.

Hermione looked up at Ginny, too surprised to speak. She'd never given much thought to the Malfoys' relationships beyond acknowledging that both of Draco's parents loved him, but it still came as a shock to her that Narcissa had left Lucius, and taken Draco with her.

Suddenly, it dawned on her why Malfoy's manor had those empty rooms, and why he was in such a foul mood recently. Narcissa had left, and his pride was wounded. No doubt, in his mind, no sane woman ever left a Malfoy. Hermione could just see him staring at his wife's words in disbelief, concerned more with how it all would make him look than with her or their son, reading it over and over as if expecting the words to change before his eyes.

Ginny was still grinning. "That's fantastic, isn't it? Serves them all right."

"You think so?"

"Yeah. They messed about with Voldemort twice, they raised the biggest prat Hogwarts has ever seen, Lucius almost killed us at the Ministry, and they _still_ had the perfect life. Only, now we know it wasn't. Losing their marriage is the least they should have to pay for what they've done."

Hermione couldn't argue with any of that, and part of her _was_ happy to hear that justice had finally caught up to the Malfoys. "Yeah. Did I tell you that Narcissa was just horrid to me once?"

"Yeah. Slughorn's first year, right? Just before the start of term?"

"Exactly. In a way, I guess it serves her right that she should be hurting this much. And Lucius, too, after what he's done, but, you know, Narcissa _did_ save Harry's life."

"I know. The Malfoys have been spouting that for two years. But she only did it because she was desperate to get to Draco. She would have been just as happy if Harry had died." Ginny's eyes lit up, and her smile grew wider. "When are you going to tell Malfoy you read this? Oh, _please_ let me be around when you do."

Hermione folded the parchment. "I'm not going to tell him anything."

"What? But... why not? After everything he's said, you can-"

"Because it'll ruin everything."

"I don't see how. Except from his perspective. From _ours,_ it'll make everything even more wonderful."

"If I tell him, he'll be angry. If he's angry, he won't help me. If he doesn't help me, we won't get those laws re-written. If we don't get those laws passed, Kingsley won't be happy. And if Kingsley isn't happy-"

"Okay, okay, I get it." She shrugged. "Guess you can always just wait until after it's all done."

"And please don't mention this to anyone."

"Why not?"

"Because if it gets out... It's just better to keep this between ourselves for now. Okay?"

"But-"

"Ginny. Please?"

She sighed. "Oh, fine."

Hermione put the letter back in her bag. "I hope he doesn't realize I have it. Hopefully he'll think he's just misplaced it or something." She turned back to Ginny. "I haven't heard from Ron in a while. Do you suppose he's okay?"

"Oh, sure," Ginny said. "Charlie'll watch out for him."

The conversation strayed away from the Ministry as Hermione and Ginny ate their lunch.

The rest of Hermione's day was so busy, she had no time to think about Malfoy and his family life at all. And, much to her annoyance, the hectic nature of working in the Department of Magical Enforcement left her no time to make a dent in the next batch of laws that needed taking care of. At the end of the day, she resigned herself to taking her work home with her once again.

When Hermione received Malfoy's owl, she was at first hesitant to go. She was worried about the potential awkwardness if he were to question her about the letter. However, she knew that if she wanted to get the re-written and new laws passed, she had little other option. Telling herself that the discomfort of discussing the letter with Malfoy was necessary to accomplish her goals, and would be nothing compared to some of her life's events, she plucked up her courage and Apparated to the manor at the appointed time.

She identified herself to the gate and continued on to the front door, where she stood staring at the wood as though expecting something to happen. Realizing she was being silly, she raised a fist and knocked.

It took a few moments for Malfoy to answer. He gave her an inscrutable look, and then stood aside to let her in.

"Did... you have a chance to read what I gave you?" Hermione asked.

"No," Malfoy answered. "I simply enjoy your company so much that I decided to invite you over for no reason at all."

Hermione raised her head higher, determined not to bite the bait. "And what did you think?"

"I think Shacklebolt is even more foolish than I assumed, and you are not much different. That either of you would think any wizard would agree with those laws is-"

"Percy Weasley did," Hermione cut in.

"The Weasleys never did have very good judgment."

Temper getting the best of her, Hermione bit out, "And yet, every single one of them is doing better than _you._ Maybe you could learn something from them."

"My life is precisely how I want it to be."

Hermione stopped herself just short of asking if he _wanted_ Narcissa and Draco to leave the country in order to get away from him. Instead, she said, "Well, how about that? At last, we have something in common. Now that's settled, let's get down to business. We need to agree on those laws so we can start the new ones."

Malfoy led her into the drawing room without speaking another word until they arrived.

"You will have to make a number of changes before I will agree to these."

Hermione sighed; she'd expected he wouldn't sign straight away. "What're those?"

He picked up a scroll without checking to see which one it was. As he skimmed the contents of the one he was reading, Hermione considered replacing Narcissa's letter. It was still in her bag, and she knew Malfoy would notice its absence sooner or later. Then, she realized that if Malfoy looked up while she was attempting to put the letter back, it would spoil their arrangement. He hadn't mentioned it; perhaps he hadn't noticed. Deciding to leave the letter where it was, Hermione let her gaze wander around the room.

As she took in the room's furnishings, she realized what had felt so off from the previous time she'd been there. It was virtually empty of any signs that anyone lived there. Where once there had been pictures on the mantle and walls, there was nothing. Where once it was clear a woman and her son lived there, now there was every indication that only a single man lived in that unreasonably large house. It was cold. And, though she hadn't ever found Malfoy's home to be welcoming, it had always been warmer than it was at that moment.

"This," Malfoy said, drawing her attention back to him, "is an unnecessary clause."

Hermione walked to within an arm's length of him and held out her hand; she didn't feel comfortable getting close enough to read over his shoulder.

"Which one?" she asked.

"The bottom paragraph."

"The clause that says you can't hurt Muggles without paying the same penalty as if you'd hurt a witch or wizard? That one?"

"Yes. Our laws are for our society, not theirs."

Hermione gave him a look of disgust. "You can't be serious. Oh, wait. I think I forgot who I'm talking to. _Of course_ you're serious. Listen, we don't want anyone going around hurting the Muggles just because they can. It's not right. And if they don't get punished for it, they'll just keep doing it."

"They're Muggles. It makes no difference to anyone whether they live or not."

"Are you aware that you're talking to a _Muggleborn?"_

"Painfully."

"My parents are Muggles. And there are quite a few Muggleborns in our world that would-"

"Then let _them_ benefit from the protection of these laws. If you must. But simply because one is of unfortunate heritage-"

"The point is, the Muggles can't protect themselves from magic. So we have to be responsible in how we use it. I won't allow a law that says Muggles can be mistreated."

"The law you are trying to overturn is as old as wizarding-"

"Actually, it isn't. It's only about..." Hermione did the maths in her head. "Thirty years old."

Malfoy frowned. "How do you know that?"

"This law only came into effect during the first war. Before that, it was considered breaking wizarding law to harm a Muggle."

"I don't believe that was the answer to the question I asked."

She sighed. "I know that because Morfin Gaunt hurt a Muggle years and years ago. Bob Ogden was the Head of the Magical Law Enforcement Squad back then, and he tried to hold Morfin accountable. But when Voldemort started to gain power, he had his Death Eaters in the Ministry alter the laws. All this law does," she continued, holding up the parchment, "is put things back the way they're supposed to be."

"By your judgement."

Hermione was getting sick of this. "You are one of the most stubborn people I have ever had the displeasure of knowing, Mr. Malfoy. And I've known _Ron_ most of my life. We have a new Minister, this is a new page in history. We are living in a new world. And it's about time you got used to it. If you can't, tell me now, and I will go find someone else to help me. Otherwise, you're just going to have to accept that the new laws won't be the old ones, which, by the way, is why we call them _new,_ and you're going to have to give a little."

Lucius regarded her, staring at her as though expecting her to back down. When Hermione did not, he took the parchment from her, and signed his name at the bottom. He held it out to her without a word.

Hermione refused to believe it would be that easy. She didn't take it. "What are you playing at, Malfoy?"

He frowned. "If this is your idea of a game, please spare me. You asked me to sign it, and I have done so."

"Yeah, but you didn't fight with me about it. I mean, you barely put up any kind of resistance at all."

Sighing, Malfoy said, "Must you overanalyze my every action? I have signed it. Since it is what you wanted, I would have thought you wouldn't press the point. However, if you suspect something sinister..." He moved toward the fireplace.

_"No._ Don't."

"Then take it and keep your mouth shut." He held it out to her once again.

Hermione took the parchment and checked to see if the signature was still there; she half-expected Malfoy had used some sort of disappearing ink. Finding it still at the bottom of the parchment, Hermione rolled it up and placed it inside her bag.

"And the others?" she asked.

They went over all the laws Hermione had given him, keeping as much space between them as possible as they discussed, debated, and decided each of them. When they finished and Hermione stood to leave, she couldn't help but voice her curiosity once more.

"I don't understand," she said. "Why are you doing this?"

Malfoy met her gaze with a steady one of his own. "It is what you want. Do not press the point."

Accepting she wasn't going to get an answer, Hermione conceded defeat and left without asking again.

~*~  
~*~*~*~  
~*~*~*~  
|| 

At the Ministry the next day, Hermione arrived in her office to find a slew of paperwork to attend to before she sat through four hearings and assisted with two arrests. It wasn't until after all of that that she could take the drafts to Kingsley.

His door was open, and he was poring over a parchment on his desk. She shifted the scrolls, trying not to drop them as she gently knocked on the doorframe, and he looked up, startled.

"Hello," she said. "Do you have a moment?"

"Oh, erm, sure. Come in."

She entered and sat on a chair opposite him. "I've made some progress on eradicating a few of the Pro-Pureblood laws and reworking them so they're fair."

He smiled. "That's good." He yawned, and Hermione wondered how hard he had been working. "But, as I've told you, we need-"

"I've got Mr. Malfoy's signature on all them." She set the scrolls on his desk. "They're not all exactly what they were before, but they're very close."

"How are they different?"

"Well... For the Wizengamot law, I had to give the Purebloods an extra seat because Mr. Malfoy knew of some laws Umbridge had changed, and he wouldn't tell me what they were unless I did. I'd much rather have it all even, but I decided that it was better to know what Umbridge did. And I've got that under control, too. I've gone through the books and found all the changes she made, and I'm in the process of changing them back."

"Hmmm..." Kingsley drifted into his own thoughts, yawned again, and then said, "You have a lot to do, with this assignment and your regular duties. Are you sure it isn't too much for you?"

"Oh, no," Hermione said. "No, it isn't. I _want_ to do this. I can manage it all. I can do it. I _promise."_

Kingsley nodded and said, "I believe you. And I'm happy to hear it. There aren't many people I would trust as much to do this right."

Though his statement re-enforced the pressure to ensure she accomplished this task perfectly, Hermione couldn't help but smile at the praise. "Thank you."

"Now, has Malfoy said what he wants in return for this?"

She hesitated, then said, "No. I've asked, but he just keeps saying that since I'm getting what I want, I should keep quiet and accept his help."

"I see. Well, thank you very much, Hermione. I will look over these and then we'll go from there."

"Sounds good," Hermione said. She was almost out of the door when she turned back to ask, "Should I stop for now, or do you want me to keep working on this?"

"Please, keep working on it. The faster we get this all done..." He broke off as another yawn overtook him.

But Hermione didn't need him to finish. "I understand."

She left, and when she looked back, she saw Kingsley rubbing his eyes as he returned to whatever he'd been looking at when she arrived, as though determined to stay awake as long as possible.

~*~  
~*~*~*~  
~*~*~*~  
|| 

"So he just _signed_ it?" Ginny asked. "Just like that? He didn't try to convince you that Muggle-hunting is a time-honoured tradition, and tell you that you can't take it away?"

"He started to, but I told him he was wrong. I told him about Bob Ogden and Morfin Gaunt, and then I said that he needed to accept that change was here, or tell me he couldn't so I could pick someone else."

"Good for you," Ginny said. "He's clearly up to something."

"You don't know that," Harry countered. "Maybe he's decided to stop fighting-"

"I doubt it. Think about it. The whole world will see that the Minister of Magic is trusting him to draft laws. It won't be good for Kingsley, but it'll be great for Malfoy."

"Why won't it be good for Kingsley?" Hermione asked.

"Because the whole world will see that he's trusting a known Death Eater to draft laws."

"And the whole world will know it's really Hermione who is behind it all," Harry pointed out. "And everyone knows she's not a Death Eater."

"That doesn't matter," Ginny said. "It puts Malfoy at the top again. That's the only reason he'd do this."

"It won't turn out badly for Kingsley, whichever way you look at it," Hermione said. "He wants Malfoy involved so the Purebloods don't become like Germany."

Ginny and Harry exchanged looks. When neither found the answer they were looking for in the other's faces, Ginny turned back to Hermione.

"Care to explain that?"

"Oh, it's just something that happened in the Muggle world ages ago. Back when Grindelwald was terrorizing the wizarding world."

"And what does Muggle Germany have anything to do with-"

"I don't think anyone will turn against Kingsley for this. He's been in charge long enough to do some real good, and now everyone knows that he knows what he's doing."

"Hermione's right," Harry agreed. "He hasn't always made decisions everyone else agreed with, but eventually they all accepted he was right."

"Yeah," Ginny said. "But what's going to happen until they do this time? I'm telling you, the only... Oh. _Oh!"_

"What?" Harry and Hermione chorused.

"Maybe he's trying to get rid of the _stigma_ on his name," Ginny suggested with a pointed look at Hermione.

_"What?"_ Harry asked again.

Hermione stared at Ginny. She hadn't considered that. "You think he's trying to get Narcissa to-"

"Maybe. I mean, if anyone ever found out, that would be horrible for him. You know how he is about appearances. So if he can get her-"

"But what about all the other stuff she said?"

"Maybe he thinks it'll be enough."

"What are you talking about?" Harry asked.

Hermione looked at her watch. "Oh. I've got to go. I need to be at Malfoy's. I'll see you both later."

Harry gave an exasperated sigh. "You know, I really hate it when you two do that."

~*~  
~*~*~*~  
~*~*~*~  
|| 

When Malfoy opened the door for her, Hermione noticed he was in better spirits than when she'd last seen him. He smelled as if he'd had a bath, and he looked as though he'd got some sleep.

_Probably happy about his plan to manipulate his wife into coming back to England, no matter how unhappy it will make her,_ Hermione thought. She followed him into the drawing room.

"Have you asked Shacklebolt about stopping those investigations?" he asked.

"I will," she assured him.

He spun around to face her. _"Will?_ Why haven't you done so yet?"

"I can't. Not so soon."

"And why not?"

"Because Kingsley is already suspicious of you. If I ask him about that now, even if I make it seem like you don't know that I'm asking, he'll refuse."

Malfoy narrowed his eyes. "Miss Granger, I agreed to your proposal under specific terms. If you-"

"I'll hold my end," she said. "I keep my word. But it has to be done a certain way. I'd think _you_ would know something about subtlety and discretion."

Malfoy's face clouded over. "And what," he whispered in a voice that was no less venomous for the quiet, "do you mean by _that?"_

Hermione knew what he was thinking, and though it hadn't crossed her mind to bring it up, she thought she might do so now. She hesitated, debating if she wanted to raise such awkwardness. Thinking about what Malfoy was doing to Narcissa, she made up her mind. "Why? What do you think I mean?"

Malfoy stared at her for a moment, and then turned away, continuing on into the drawing room.

Hurrying after him, Hermione pressed, "It's just, you got really upset for no reason just now."

"We have work to do," he stated. "So let's get it over with."

"You know a lot about being discreet, don't you?"

"Another word on this subject, Miss Granger -"

"What you're doing is wrong," Hermione said.

"It is no different than what you are doing."

"It's entirely different."

"Oh? I am using you to accomplish my own ends. And, if I am not mistaken, you are doing exactly the same."

"That's not-"

"Or tell me I'm wrong. Tell me you would have come seeking my opinion if Shacklebolt hadn't told you it was the only way to see the change you wanted."

Hermione did not answer. Malfoy wasn't wrong, and if she said otherwise, they would both know it was a blatant lie.

"Now," Malfoy went on. "I suggest you focus on what you're here to do. Another word about other matters, and our deal is at an end."

Hermione weighed her options. She could continue to push, reveal to Malfoy what she knew, and accomplish nothing besides earning herself a very large setback. Or, she could shut her mouth and do her job.

"I've drafted a few proposals," she said, gathering the scrolls from her bag. "I thought it would be better to wait and see if you had any thoughts before I wrote them all out. They're mostly fixing-"

"I've told you before. I am perfectly able to read and comprehend without a summary," Malfoy said. "Give them to me."

Hermione handed them over, and sat down, waiting for Malfoy to finish reading and begin the debate.

~*~  
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|| 

It was late by the time Hermione left Malfoy's house. She was tired and could think of nothing better than to go home and straight to sleep. Her thoughts were on how comfortable her bed would feel when something swooped out of the darkness, startling her. Reacting on instinct, she drew her wand and Stunned the object. It froze mid-air, falling to the ground with a soft _thud._

Wand still at the ready, Hermione approached the small, dark lump with caution. As she drew closer, it began to take the shape of a bird. And, when she was almost beside it, she saw that it was an owl, staring up at her with wide, glassy eyes.

"Oh." She dropped to her knees beside it and was about to revive it when she noticed a letter tied to the bird's leg.

Wondering if it was another letter from Narcissa, Hermione touched the scroll, tempted to open and read it. She pulled her hand back; it wouldn't be right to invade Malfoy's privacy that way. She pointed the wand at the bird, started the incantation, and then stopped.

It wouldn't hurt anyone to read it. And she should know if Malfoy's plan had worked and Narcissa was returning. It could be a matter of security; Narcissa might bring Dark items back into the country. Hermione grinned; she was starting to think like Ginny. It was so easy to rationalize when she wanted an excuse for her nosiness.

She also thought it might contain a strongly worded reprimand from Narcissa. Hermione didn't know the woman well, but she thought she knew enough to assume that Narcissa wouldn't be so easily bullied. It would be funny to read how thoroughly she put Malfoy in his place. Besides, she'd already read the first letter, and was therefore involved whether she liked it or not.

"In for a Sickle..." She untied the scroll and settled back on her heels to read it. To her surprise, she found it wasn't from Narcissa.

_Father,_

I've told you before. I want to stay in Spain with Mother and Astoria. We're not welcome in England, and even if you say you're working on fixing that, I am going to stay here. At least until it all has been fixed. I don't want to be there if it isn't done, yet.

They respect us here, and I won't settle for anything less than absolute respect. You taught me that. When the Malfoy name has that again, then I might return. But not before.

Maybe teaming up with Granger will do it. She whores around with Potter and Weasley. She might have influence. But I think it speaks a lot that a Malfoy has to turn to a Mudblood for help with something like this. I don't want to live in a place like that. It sounds like a nightmare.

I know you and Mother want to be apart, but if you miss me that much, and want to see me so badly, you can come to Spain. I won't tell Mother you're here if you do. I know you don't want to see her, and to tell you the truth, I'm disgusted with her as well.

If you don't want to come here, then let me know when you've 'fixed' everything, and I'll see about returning.

Draco.

Hermione felt as stunned as the bird at her knees. Her heart raced as she realized what this meant; the plot wasn't for Narcissa at all.

Her insides turned with sympathy for Malfoy; a feeling she never thought she'd have for the man. A letter like this was bound to hurt him.

Something fell inside the manor with a resounding clang. Glancing at the house to be sure Malfoy couldn't see her, she hastily re-tied the scroll to the bird, cast the spell, and watched as it hopped to its feet, then took flight once more, disappearing into the shadow of Malfoy's house.

~*~  
~*~*~*~  
~*~*~*~  
|| 

The next morning, Hermione had little time between waking up and needing to be at the Ministry. She hurried to work and borrowed one of the Ministry owls to send a letter to Ginny. It was one of the kind her department used to send notices to law-breaking citizens. They were faster than ordinary owls, often reaching their target within moments of being sent out. Hermione reasoned, if they could deliver notices that fast, they could deliver a letter just as quickly.

Ginny arrived twenty minutes later.

"What took you so long?" Hermione asked.

"I was babysitting Victoire. I had to get George to do it so I could come here. What's so important?"

"We were wrong about what Malfoy is up to."

Ginny arched an eyebrow. "He told you his plan, did he?"

"No. He got another letter last night. Only this one was from-"

"And he let you read it? He can't have been thick enough to leave another one lying around."

"Oh, well, no. He wasn't." Sheepishly, she explained, "I might have accidentally Stunned his owl and read the letter."

Ginny snorted. "Completely by accident?"

"Yes, of course," Hermione said with mock indignance. "I would _never_ do such a thing on purpose."

"Of course you wouldn't," Ginny said. "So what was in the letter?"

"Lucius is trying to get Draco back into the country. He must be sending loads of letters, because Draco said that he's told Lucius before that he's going to stay in Spain with Narcissa and that woman... whatever her name was. And he also said that if Lucius misses him as much as he says, he should just go to Spain to see him."

Shaking her head, Ginny said, "I always knew that if his dear daddy wasn't able to get him out of trouble every time he turned around, or pay for everything he wanted, Draco wouldn't have a use for him."

"Well, Malfoy's still really wealthy-"

"Yeah, but that's not the point. Draco's just a spoiled ferret."

"Won't argue with you there," Hermione agreed. "Even after what happened in the war, he still thinks... Oh! I almost forgot! He mentioned Narcissa. He said he was disgusted with her."

Ginny looked confused. "He's disgusted with her, but he wants to stay with her?"

"Well, they respect him in Spain, he says. But he said that if Lucius wanted to visit, he wouldn't tell Narcissa he was there, and that they were both disgusted."

"Oh." She shrugged. "Dunno. But it doesn't matter, does it? I've always sort of found her disgusting anyway."

"Yeah, well..." Hermione turned away, walking over to her file cabinet.

"You didn't?"

As she pulled open a drawer and began to look through the folders, Hermione answered, "No, it's not that. It's just..." She sighed as she pulled out Malfoy's file and turned back to Ginny. She expected her friend would scoff at the suggestion, but she decided to voice it anyway. "Don't you sort of feel bad for him?"

"'Him' being...?"

"Malfoy."

"'Malfoy' meaning...?"

"What? Oh. Lucius."

"Erm... No. Why on Earth would I ever feel bad for _him?"_

"Well... Think about it. His wife and son left him all alone in that huge house, and they won't have anything to do with him at all. He took care of Narcissa all those years, and he loved Draco. He _did,_" Hermione insisted when Ginny looked as if she might interrupt. "He might not have shown it the way we'd want him to, but he loved his son. He gave Draco everything he could ever want, and more besides. He told Draco he misses him and wants him to come home - which of itself is remarkable because I didn't know Malfoy knew how to openly express any emotion besides disdain - and Draco tells him, 'Sorry, Dad. I know you miss me, but even after everything you've done for me and all that we've been through together, I can't be bothered to come see you because our surname isn't what it used to be.' Imagine how your mum would feel if one of you said something like that to her."

"I don't think 'Weasley' was ever such a respected surname that we'd have to worry about it losing its prestige."

Rolling her eyes, Hermione said, "That's not what I meant. I meant-"

"I know what you meant," Ginny cut in. "And I don't care. I think the Malfoys - _all_ of them - deserve what they get. I'm not going to waste my emotions feeling lousy for the bastard."

"But look at this," Hermione pushed, opening Malfoy's file to the last few investigations. "Look at how his attitude changed. At first, the reports say he was hoarding items, but not any different than anyone would expect. He stopped after a few reprisals."

"Yeah, I remember all this. He paid a few fines, spent some time in Azkaban... So what?"

_"So,_ he was never happy about us searching his house, but he tolerated it fairly well. I mean, he was unpleasant and he would go on and on about how he didn't like it, but we all expected that. But look at the last few months, right around the time Narcissa and Draco went on 'holiday.' He got a lot more agitated, and-"

"Of course he did. They left him, and if they don't come back, their name will be... What did Narcissa call it? Tarnished? It'll be that forever. And that's all he cares about."

"I don't think it is," Hermione said. "When I went there that first night after he agreed to help, he'd been drinking. Alone. And-"

"Hermione, will you _pay attention?_ He's just upset about his stupid _name._ Just like Draco. Just like Narcissa. That's _it._ There's nothing more to it."

"But-"

"_Here_ you are, Hermione," a voice from the corridor said. "What are you doing here?"

Both Hermione and Ginny turned to see who had spoken. Hermione wasn't surprised to see her superior, but was a little confused at his question.

"Erm, Frank," Hermione said, "this is my office, remember? It's where I do my work, and-"

"No. Why are you here, now? You should be at the trial."

"The...trial?"

"For misuse of magic, and magic in front of Muggles. You sent the notice the other day, and you're supposed to be down in Courtroom Six right now. We're all waiting for you, and Percy has launched into a lecture about punctuality and Merlin knows what else, so-"

Ginny laughed. "Better you lot than us."

Frank looked at her as though only just realizing she was there. "Oh. Hello." He looked at Hermione again. "Let's go."

"Right. I'm sorry. I forgot." Hermione followed Frank out with Ginny at her heels.

In the corridor, Ginny went one way, while Frank and Hermione went another.

"What was Ginny Weasley doing here?" Frank asked as they hurried to the lift.

"Oh. Erm. There was something... It's a project. Not a Ministry project, though."

"A _project_ made you forget about the trial? Must be an important project."

"Yeah," Hermione said as the lift clanged to their floor. "And I think it just became an even bigger one."

"What's that?" Frank asked. Evidently, the noise from the lift had muffled her words.

"Oh, nothing," she answered, getting into the lift. "Nothing at all."

~*~  
~*~*~*~  
~*~*~*~  
|| 

The next time Hermione visited the manor was two days after the letter from Draco, and she was curious to see how Malfoy was coping. But no one opened when she knocked. She tried for several minutes before giving up and going home.

The next night, she had better luck. After a few tries, she heard someone moving around on the other side of the door and fumbling with the lock.

When Malfoy opened the door, his clothing was dishevelled, he was bleary eyed, and he squinted at Hermione as though he wasn't sure who she was.

"What do _you_ want?"

Hermione turned her head aside at the smell of his breath. It reeked of Firewhisky and she didn't know what else. Taking a discreet step back, she said, "We're supposed to work on the drafts, remember? I thought this time we could work on them together, from scratch, so that..." She broke off, looking at him with pity. "But you don't want to work on these right now, do you?"

"Ast... Ast... Keen obervation... observation..." He made to close the door.

Hermione held out her hand to stop it. Deciding not to be confrontational, she asked, "Mr. Malfoy, is something the matter?"

"No," he answered.

"If there was... I mean, if you needed to talk to someone... If you wanted..." Hermione couldn't believe she was offering to be a shoulder for him to lean on, and it seemed her brain couldn't either; she couldn't get the words out.

Malfoy laughed, and Hermione had to step back again to avoid being knocked off her feet from the stench.

"I wouldn't... Would never talk to _you."_

Thinking he might just be drunk enough not to realize what she was doing, Hermione asked, "What wouldn't you talk to me about?"

He grinned. "'Snot your business."

She decided to try a different strategy. "Okay. I'll go." She turned, then paused. "Mr. Malfoy, have you heard from Narcissa and Draco recently? Only our department thinks-"

Malfoy laughed again, but there was no mirth or amusement in it. "Heard from 'em? Yeah, I heard from 'em. Got a letter from m'wife th'other day."

That surprised her. "And what did it say?"

He frowned. "Leave," he said. "I don't want you here."

"Okay," she said again. "I guess we'll have to do this another time."

He shut the door without answering her.

Hermione stood on the porch, in the dark. That was a side of Malfoy she'd never seen. It was the most undone he'd ever been in her presence, and she wasn't sure she liked it. It was unnerving to have something so familiar as Malfoy's attitude - however unpleasant it constantly was - change like that, especially over a couple of letters. As she walked off the grounds, Hermione wondered what Narcissa could have possibly said to cause Malfoy to react that way.

~*~  
~*~*~*~  
~*~*~*~  
|| 

Two mornings later, Kingsley asked Hermione to meet with him again.

"How are things going with Lucius?" he asked as Hermione took a seat.

"We finished two laws a few days ago, and drafted a few proposals." She opened her bag and began to place them on his desk.

Kingsley picked up one of the scrolls and began to unroll it. "When is your next meeting with Lucius?"

Hermione smiled nervously. "I... don't know."

He looked up at her. "What do you mean?"

"We haven't arranged one."

"Why not? Has he changed his mind?"

"Oh, no," Hermione said quickly. "Or, I don't think so. I just... He wasn't in a law-making mood last I saw him. He was... distracted with something. I'm not sure what."

"I see."

"Erm..." Hermione shifted forward on her seat, leaning toward him. "Is it really necessary to keep working with him?"

Kingsley frowned. "Has he done something to make you want to avoid him?"

"Nothing worse than usual. It's just... We've got so much done already. We've given his side a voice. Surely they won't be angry if we have a few laws Mr. Malfoy wasn't involved with."

Kingsley's expression turned thoughtful. "You've been working well with him. Why have you changed your mind?"

"It's just faster if I do it on my own."

"I see. And you would rather be faster than fairer?"

"I'm fair," Hermione protested.

"But you can't see the laws through a Death Eater's eyes. It's not how you think. You don't have the same experiences they do. We've talked about all this."

"Yes, but..." What could she say? That Malfoy's family had deserted him, and he spent his time drinking alone, drowning his sorrows or, if Ginny was right, his wounded pride? That the only reason he agreed to help was to get his son back, but it wasn't working, and she didn't want to be around a rude, drunken man? That it wasn't worth putting up with him for the greater good of their country? That she, of all people, _gave up?_ She sighed. "You're right, of course." She rose to go, then stopped. "Sir?"

"Yes?" He'd begun to read one of her scrolls, but looked up at her.

On second thought, Hermione decided it was a bad time to suggest ending the investigations on Malfoy. She'd just made it clear she was reluctant to keep working with him. It would be odd to then turn around and ask for favours on his behalf.

"Never mind. I'll arrange a time with him."

Back in her office, Hermione ran through the best ways to handle this. Malfoy knew she'd seen him in an embarrassing state, and she didn't expect he would want to meet with her after that. She'd have to have a good reason. Her thoughts wandered through possibilities before she decided on the best one; she would just have to say that Kingsley was impressed with his contribution and had agreed to consider putting a stop to the Preemptive Investigations. Malfoy wouldn't know it was a lie, and it was the only leverage she had.

She decided to show up unannounced; if she were there in person, and he refused, she would have a better chance of convincing him to change his mind. She doubted he'd do it, but she'd at least have that chance.

That night, she paced in front of the gate, imagining it to be watching her with a bored expression, waiting for her to approach so it could ask her its routine question. She smiled at the image, but when she looked at the house again, her smile faded.

She wasn't sure what she was afraid of. She didn't fear Malfoy, though she was hesitant to be near him if he was going to be angry; he wasn't a saint, he had a temper, and a temper mixed with drunkenness did not bode well. And even if she fought back, she could still get hurt. At that thought, she rolled her eyes at herself. She was afraid of facing a drunken, angry man? After all she'd seen and done? She'd faced worse than that when she was twelve, and far worse when she was eighteen.

"This is ridiculous," she said. She marched up to the gate, stated her name and purpose, and strode across the grounds as if she hadn't a care in the world.

She knocked without hesitation. After a few moments of inactivity from inside, she tried again.

Malfoy opened the door a crack, spilling a thin rectangle of light onto Hermione's face. Seeing who it was, he opened it all the way and demanded, "What do you want _now?"_

Hermione took in his appearance before answering. He was dressed immaculately, down to his dragon hide boots. He was sober, and she smelled nothing to indicate he'd been drinking recently. His words were no longer slurred. In short, he was the Malfoy she knew again.

"We still have work to do," she said.

"I have no more interest in aiding you with your misguided agenda," Malfoy said.

"But you agreed, and-"

"Yes. In the past, I was willing to help. But that was the past, and as you've said, we cannot cling to that."

Hermione found it strange that _this_ was the version of Malfoy she preferred, and wondered if the drunken one would be easier to convince. She decided this was the time to use her leverage. "I talked to Kingsley. He's agreed to consider stopping the investigations on-"

"The investigations were not my primary motivation. And neither you, nor your precious minister, can give me what I want. So, pardon me, but-"

He tried to close the door, but Hermione stuck her foot in the way. "But we can," she insisted.

"Oh?" The skepticism dripped from Malfoy's voice like water. "You presume to know what I want?"

"Yes, I do. You want your name back. And helping us-"

"My name?" He smiled humourlessly. "My name is not my concern at the moment."

"Then what is? I can't help you until you tell me."

"I don't recall asking for your help."

"Well, no, you didn't, but if you tell me-"

"This conversation is at an end. I have nothing more to say to you, or anyone else your Ministry sends."

He made to close the door. Hermione couldn't stop herself.

"I know about Draco and Narcissa," she blurted out. "I know they won't come back from Spain."

The door stopped. It was several moments before it inched open once more. Malfoy's face had become a hardened mask - of what, Hermione couldn't determine. Rage, perhaps with shock and anger thrown in. Her heartbeat picked up, but she stood her ground and tried to appear calm. They stood looking at one another for several moments.

"Inside," he ordered.

Hermione tried not to look at him as she entered, not wanting to give him any reason to think she was afraid. She watched him out of the corner of her eye, and didn't give him her full attention until she was completely inside the hall.

He led her through the corridors into the drawing room. She followed several feet back, hand on her wand.

"Sit," he directed. It was the only time he'd ever offered her a seat.

Hermione sat on the arm of one of the chairs, deciding that was an easier position to rise from quickly. The room was exactly the same as it always was, with one notable difference. A rolling bar sat near the fireplace.

"Now," Malfoy said, fixing her with a look so penetrating that, if she hadn't known better, she would have thought that he was using Legilimency on her. "What do you _think_ you know about my family?"

"I know that Draco and Narcissa have gone, that you want them back, and that they would rather live in Spain than with you."

Stepping closer to her, he said, "I wondered how long it would take you to raise this subject. I admit, I was surprised when it didn't smear the pages of the _Daily Prophet_ the very next morning."

Dumbfounded, Hermione stared at him. It took a moment before she realized her jaw was slightly open. She closed it as she tried to think of a response to what he had just said.

"You... You _knew?"_

"Of course I knew. Did you really think me so unobservant that I wouldn't notice my letter had disappeared?"

"But..." Hermione didn't understand. "But... You never mentioned it. And I'd think, given what it was about, that you'd-"

"I'm sure you'll understand that I did not wish to discuss such matters with you. Nor do I wish to now. However, you leave me no choice."

"I-I'm sorry. I just-"

"I'm not interested in your apologies. I am interested in your intentions."

"My... intentions?"

"Yes." Malfoy drew his words out slowly, as if she were too stupid to understand if he spoke at a normal pace. "What do you intend to do with this information?"

"I... I wasn't going to _do_ anything with it. I-"

"I have no stomach for games. Not from you. And especially not this night. You've held on to this. Until now. Why?"

"Because..." The truth was, Hermione wasn't sure _what_ had made her blurt it out. "Because I thought if you knew I knew, you'd understand that I understand what you want. And I thought if you knew that, you'd be willing to help me."

"Ah. In other words, you intend blackmail. I thought that was beneath the stalwart and true Gryffindors."

"It's not. I've blackmailed people before. But that's not what I want to do now."

"Oh? And why do I merit special treatment?"

"Because I may not like you, but you're not doing anything wrong. And you may have the most vile personality of anyone, but you're trying to help, even if you are doing it selfishly. And because I am not Rita Skeeter, and I don't put everyone's personal lives on the front page of the _Daily Prophet."_

"Why not? _I_ would, to achieve my own ends."

"Malfoy, I think you've just given me the best reason yet not to do it."

"But you're willing to. If I don't endorse your laws-"

"No. I won't do that. All you want is your family back. I can relate to missing your family and thinking you'll never see them again. It would be mean to exploit that. No decent person takes someone else's grief and does something like that."

"Grief? You think I grieve because my wife and son have made the choice they have?"

"Yes, I do. You don't care about your appearance, or your name, and you keep drinking. I was here the other night, and you were utterly drunk. Do you even remember?" She stood. "I know how much you loved them. Don't you see how helping me will help get them back? Draco will come back if he can claim his father wrote most of the new laws. And if Draco comes back, Narcissa will, too."

"Miss-"

"Or, what if Narcissa came back? Would Draco, too?"

"Miss Granger, this is none of your concern. This is _my_ family, and none of your business."

"But... Don't you want them back?"

"Again, it is none of your business. This is a private family matter."

"Fine. Then help me, and you help your private family matter that we won't discuss anymore."

"You are one of the most insolent, stubborn people I have ever had the displeasure of knowing. What I want, and how I achieve it is not your concern. And, if you intend to keep your mouth shut about what you read, then we have nothing else to discuss."

"You want me to go?" Hermione asked, though she knew very well what the answer was.

"I thought that was clear. But if you need me to say it, then yes. Leave."

"You want me to go," Hermione started, "so that you can sit around here, alone, moping, and sinking into a drunken stupor." She held up her hands. "I know, I know. It's none of my business. But I'm disappointed. I thought you were better than that."

She pushed past him and showed herself out.

~*~  
~*~*~*~  
~*~*~*~  
|| 

When Hermione next met with Kingsley, she had not yet decided how she was going to break the news that Malfoy had rescinded his offer of help. When she started to speak, she was annoyed to hear herself babbling.

"I've been thinking. All those other laws Mr. Malfoy and I did... They're not passed, yet, right? I mean, they will be soon. I know that. But it won't be, you know, in the next hour or anything. And there's so many. We don't want to overwhelm everyone by giving them all at once. And right now, it's just undoing some of the old things. We still have to create more brand new ones. And, really, I don't think that's Mr. Malfoy's strength. He's not very fair-minded, you know? And I was thinking... Well, I know you don't want me to do it alone, because you don't want another... But maybe I can find someone else. One of the Carrows, or-"

"Hermione," Kingsley said. "This is the second time you've tried to convince me that working with Lucius wasn't the best idea. Why don't you try telling me what's going on?"

Hermione sighed. She had no choice. "Mr. Malfoy doesn't want to help anymore."

Kingsley raised his eyebrows. "Did he give a reason?"

"He..." Hermione searched for a delicate way to say what she wanted to say. "He's got other things on his mind. I think... I think it's something with Draco, and he, erm, Malfoy, erm, _Lucius_... Lucius is more concerned with his family than with the rest of the world."

"Has Draco come back?" Kinglsey asked. "I haven't got a report of his-"

"I don't think he's back," Hermione said. "He's still on holiday. But... I think he's ill. _Really_ ill."

"Oh?" Kingsley said, concerned. "What's the matter with him?"

"I.. don't really know. Mr. Malfoy wasn't specific. He said it was a wizarding illness, and then made a backhanded remark about my not understanding because I'm Muggleborn. As if I don't know every bit as much about the wizarding world as he does. Probably more. _I'm_ the one helping to make the laws now, aren't I? And he behaves as if I'm nothing more than-"

"Hermione, please try to calm down. Wizards like Lucius... You can't listen to what they say. If you take everything they say so personally-"

"I _know,_" she interrupted. "You're right, of course. I'm sorry."

Kingsley waved a dismissive hand. "Don't give it a second thought. I want you to try Lucius again in a few days, when the matter with Draco might not seem so serious. We need his help, and I had hoped that if this project went off well, we might ask him to work on some other laws, not just regarding Purebloods. If he still refuses in a few days time... We'll figure that out when it happens. Okay?"

Hermione nodded. "Okay." She smiled as she stood to leave. "I've got enough other work to be going on with, anyhow."

~*~  
~*~*~*~  
~*~*~*~  
|| 

"So where does this put you?" Ginny asked.

Hermione and Ginny were sitting on the floor of Hermione's sitting room. Ginny was teasing Crookshanks by dangling a string in front of the cat's face, and moving it before he could swat it away. Hermione sat cross-legged nearby, her arms resting on her legs, her chin in one hand.

"Other than 'in a really difficult situation,' I don't know."

"You should have told Kingsley the truth. It's not as if the entire wizarding world doesn't already know, and he might have let you do the laws on your own."

"The entire wizarding world doesn't _know_ that Narcissa and Draco will never come back. And I told you already that I feel sorry for Malfoy."

Ginny scoffed. "He doesn't deserve it."

"You didn't see him," Hermione countered. "He misses them. It must be eating him up inside."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "I'd tell you what I think, but I already have, and I'm tired of repeating myself."

Hermione was as convinced Malfoy was hurting over his family as Ginny was that it was only about his status. "Well, I can't help it. I feel bad for him. I'm not about to be that horrible Skeeter woman and confirm any suspicions everyone has."

"He'd do it to you," Ginny pointed out, moving the string in circles and watching Crookshanks chase it.

"I know." Hermione unfolded her legs, which tingled as the blood rushed through them. "Let's talk about something else. Or _do_ something else. It's the weekend. Bet we can find Neville and catch up with him."

"Okay," Ginny agreed. "I've been wondering if he's made any progress with Susan, anyway."

Hermione didn't return home until late that night. She, Ginny, and Neville had stayed up talking and drinking, and she was more than a little tipsy when she Apparated away from his flat. She was so exhausted, she fell straight into bed without a second thought.

She hadn't been asleep long when a loud pounding from somewhere woke her. Groggily, she opened her eyes and looked around her dark bedroom. The pounding continued, a counter-rhythm to the drums beating inside her head. Cursing, she rolled out of bed and, making sure she had her wand with her, stumbled to the front door.

Hand on the doorknob, she asked, "Who's there?"

"Lucius Malfoy."

Hermione blinked. _"Who?"_

"Lucius Malfoy. Open the door."

"I'm not that stupid. Who are you?"

"Luc- The first night I invited you into my home, you stole a letter my wife wrote to me. I gave you a book full of laws Dolores Umbridge created and altered."

Unable to help the frown that took over her face, Hermione peered out of the peephole. It was undoubtedly Lucius Malfoy who stood on the other side. Her stomach twisted in surprise.

"Open the door."

She hesitated a moment. "What do you want?"

_"Open the door,"_ he repeated. "Have you no sense of common courtesy?"

"That's a laugh, coming from you," she said, but she unlocked the door and disabled the charms preventing unauthorized entry.

When she opened the door, a blast of icy air washed over her, waking her more than the shock of finding Malfoy on her doorstep. He pushed past her, dropping his cloak on the back of a chair as he entered the sitting room.

"Please," Hermione said as she shut the door. "Come in. _Do_ make yourself at home." She re-cast the spells that guarded the door, and then followed Malfoy.

Malfoy looked out of place, as though he knew he didn't belong there. He didn't sit, instead standing behind the chair his cloak rested on, glancing around the room and, as she walked up to him, at Hermione as well.

"How do you know where I live?" Hermione asked.

"I still have friends in the Ministry," he answered. "Some with access to the information."

"I'll have to talk to Kingsley about that," she said. Crossing her arms, she added, "I'm still waiting for you to explain why you're here."

"I have something I know you will like."

"And that is...?"

He reached into his cloak. Hermione clenched her wand in reflex, but all Malfoy produced was a scroll. He handed it to her, then searched inside his cloak once more and gave her another one.

"What are these?" she asked, nonplussed.

He sighed. "They are scrolls, Miss Granger."

"Yes. I figured that much out on my own, thank you. Why am I holding them?"

"I am not going to explain that. You are not a simpleton. You are perfectly capable of opening them and finding out."

Hermione gave him a look, but opened one of the scrolls without further argument. She skimmed the contents, then went back and read it carefully. When she had finished, she skimmed once again, then looked up at him.

"I drank a lot tonight, and my head is killing me, so maybe I'm not understanding this properly. But it _looks_ like a new law designed to amend the Trace on underage wizards." She looked at it again. "And it looks like it's in _your_ handwriting."

"That's because it _is._" There was undisguised impatience in his voice.

"And you wrote this because...?"

"Did you not still require my assistance on the new laws for your new society?"

Hermione frowned again. "Yes. But didn't you tell me just a few days ago that you weren't going to help anymore?"

"I have decided that I will. The other scroll is a proposal for another new law. I trust you will want to read it."

Hermione shook her head, making it feel like goblins were clog dancing in her skull. "What makes... Ow." She let the scrolls fall onto the chair, on top of Malfoy's cloak, and rubbed her temples. "What makes you think it's that easy? Maybe I've asked another wizard to help me. Did you think of that?"

"No other wizard can influence those you are trying to reach as I can. You have my help. Do not argue the point."

Hermione rolled her eyes; she was in no mood to have a verbal sparring match with him. "Fine. Thank you. I'll read these in the morning and make any adjustments that are needed. And, in future, I would appreciate it if you didn't try to break my door down in the middle of the night. It's _common courtesy_ to wait until a more decent hour."

It was Malfoy's turn to frown. "Very well," he agreed. "But since you are awake, perhaps we can sort out these out now, rather than later."

"Why the rush?"

For the briefest of moments, Malfoy looked as if the question made him uncomfortable. But Hermione blinked, and he'd regained his composure. "I am here now. You are awake now. And we're both able to do what needs to be done now. The most logical conclusion is to do this now."

"Yes. And if my brain weren't about to lead a conga line out of my head through my nose, you would have a valid argument, I guess. But since it is, we'll deal with this in the morning."

"Conga line?" Malfoy asked.

"Yes, a..." Realizing the notion was foreign to him, she said, "Never mind. It's a Muggle thing. Look, if you like, I can drop by early in the day, and-"

"No. I will return here."

"I don't remember inviting you."

"Miss Granger, let's be practical, shall we? You have no desire to be in my home. We each have an interest in getting this done as soon as possible. And we've already decided against any other establishment."

"You didn't want to come here before," Hermione pointed out. "You never suggested it-"

"The situation has changed. I-"

"You really enjoy being cryptic, don't you? Can't you ever just come out and say something? _Anything?_ Besides insults and condescending remarks, I mean. What do you think is going to happen if you just say, outright, what it is you're thinking or feeling? Honestly, it's incredibly frustrating."

"I have my reasons. And I know the value of a secret."

"Cryptic. _Again._ Fine, fine. Keep your secrets. But go home and keep them there. Come back in the morning." She thought. The next day was a Saturday. She didn't have work. "Around eleven."

Malfoy didn't look at all pleased with the way the meeting had turned out. He picked up his cloak, then turned to her. He struggled with what he was about to say. Then, he steeled himself and, with as much dignity as he ever showed, spoke.

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me," Hermione said, slightly taken aback. "I'm only doing it because I have to."

"I was referring to your promise," Malfoy clarified without a drop of condescension or impatience in his voice. "Thank you for holding your tongue about what you read in that letter. I expected you'd break your word after I refused to help. I was most surprised that you didn't."

Hermione's eyebrows shot up. This was a surprisingly decent side of Malfoy. "Oh. Well, erm, you're welcome?"

"Eloquently put," Malfoy drawled.

He returned to the door, Hermione behind him. She cast the spells to unlock the house, and opened the door to let him out.

"Eleven, then," Malfoy said as he donned his cloak and stepped out into the night.

Hermione locked the door after him, ensuring the spells were in place before she returned to bed, wondering what had just transpired. It was so strange, for so many reasons, not least of which was Malfoy's sincere thanks, and his willingness to be in her home for as long as it took to go over the laws he'd proposed. But, stranger than that, was his reluctance to be in his own home. She wasn't sure what to make of it, but before she could decide, she fell asleep.

She woke to a sunlit room and a hangover that made her wish for unconsciousness again. A shower did little to make her feel better.

As she was heading into the kitchen, someone knocked on her door. A glance at the clock told her it wasn't yet eleven. Sighing, she went to answer. She didn't need to look through the peephole this time; the pattern of the knock told her it was Ginny. After the war, Hermione and all her friends had decided on special knocks to prove they were themselves, and not Polyjuiced impostors looking for revenge. She unlocked the door, removed the charms, and let Ginny in.

"Are you feeling terrible?" Ginny asked, looking as if she'd been awake the entire night. In her hands, she held two bottles, which Hermione hoped were not Ginny's way of saying she wanted to continue what they'd started the previous night.

"Miserable."

"I think we should come to an agreement that the next time Neville is having romantic troubles, we do _not_ tell him that a night of drinking will make him feel better in the morning."

"Absolutely," Hermione said. "And that goes double for the next time I'm upset about work. What were we _thinking?"_

"I think I was thinking, 'Mmmm, Firewhisky.' And for most of the night, I was thinking, 'I've never noticed how the toilet smells before' and, 'How can this much sick be inside one person?'"

"You were sick? I wasn't."

"That's because you didn't mix your drinks with that bottle of blue stuff Neville bought from Rosemerta."

"I told you not to."

"Well, I thought that if she _sells_ it, it must be safe."

"Yes, _by itself._ Not mixed in with-"

"You're lecturing me, and I brought you a gift," Ginny interrupted with a mock pout. "That's not very nice."

"A gift?" Hermione repeated. "What sort of gift?"

"I went to Diagon Alley this morning. Dropped in on George."

When Ginny did not go on, Hermione asked, "Is he the gift?"

"If you want to think of it that way. He gave me these." She held out one of the bottles to her. "They're supposed to cure hangovers."

"Do they work?"

"Yes. I mean, I haven't tried them, but I'm sure my brothers did. George said they were still refining it, but I made him drink a bottle in front of me so I could be sure it wasn't dangerous. I thought we'd try it together." She waved her wand, sending the bottle corks into the air, then handed a drink to Hermione.

It was sour with a bitter aftertaste, which surprised Hermione; she'd expected it to be sweeter so that more people would want to buy it. But, as her headache began to dull and disappear, she decided that it didn't matter what it tasted like; anyone would drink it if it meant an end to the agony that were hangovers.

Ginny made a face as she finished her bottle. "Ergh. That was disgusting."

A knock at the door caught Hermione's attention.

"Yeah," Hermione as she went to answer the door. "You should tell George to fix that before they sell it, but I don't think it'll make any difference in the end. I feel better. Don't you?"

"Still a little sick to my stomach," Ginny said as she followed Hermione to the door.

Hermione stood on her toes to look out of the peephole as she said, "That'll happen when you mix things you're not supposed to, and then _drink them."_ Her stomach twisted, and she settled back onto her heels. The person on the other side was looking away from the door, but the blonde hair and pointed nose were unmistakable.

"Who is it?" Ginny asked.

"Oh. Erm..." Hermione knew Ginny would have a fit if she knew that Hermione had told Malfoy that it was okay to work on the laws in her home. Alone. But she couldn't see any way to avoid telling her friend. "Well, you're already sick. So I guess it won't make much difference." She unlocked the door, and, steeling herself for Ginny's outrage, stepped aside to let Malfoy in.

"I'm feeling better, actually," Ginny said. "Who..." As Malfoy stepped in, Ginny's eyes widened, before she frowned. "And now I think I might be sick again. What the hell are you doing here?" she demanded.

Malfoy raised an eyebrow, and an amused smile played at his lips. "I was invited."

"You... _What?"_ She looked from him to Hermione and back again. "No, you weren't."

"'Invited' is an exaggeration," Hermione said. "But I did tell him he could come here. We have work to do."

"Work." Ginny looked nonplussed. "With... _him?"_

"We have those laws to do."

"I thought he changed his mind."

"He changed it back."

"When? You were with me all night. If he-"

"Ginny," Hermione said, wanting to calm the situation before her friend really lost her temper. "I'll explain it all to you later. I promise. But Mr. Malfoy and I really need to get this finished. I'll drop by tonight, okay?"

"He isn't going to stay _here."_ It was a statement and a question at once.

"Just until we finish what we're doing."

"Which would be a great deal faster and smoother if you left," Malfoy said.

"Shut up," Ginny ordered.

"Mr. Malfoy, this is my house," Hermione started. "You don't kick people out of it. So be quiet." She turned back to Ginny. "It will be fine. I can take care of myself."

"He's a bastard. I don't trust him."

"Neither do I. But it'll be fine. Really."

Ginny's expression made it clear she thought Hermione was making a horrible decision. She faced Malfoy. "Don't try anything stupid," she warned. "I know you haven't changed, and if anything goes wrong, I'll see you back in Azkaban." To Hermione, she added, "Better not tell Ron that Malfoy was in this house. He'd want to burn it down and make you move." She gave Malfoy another dirty look, then left.

"You didn't tell your friends I was coming," Malfoy observed as he settled onto the couch in the sitting room, and Hermione retrieved several blank scrolls.

"So what?"

"It's an interesting secret to keep."

"If you say so." Hermione had the feeling he was trying to play some game with her head, and though she didn't know what it was or why he'd do it, she refused to play along. Eyes on the scroll in front of her, she said, "Let's just focus on the work, shall we?"

"Yes," he said, giving her a peculiar look. "Have you read the drafts I wrote?"

"The what?" She looked up at him. "Oh, you mean the ones you nearly knocked my door in to give me. No. Sorry. I forgot about them." Trying to remember where she'd put them, she stood and looked around. Spotting them on the chair, she walked over, sat on the arm, and began to read the first one she unrolled.

"You're in better spirits than I expected," Malfoy commented.

"Why wouldn't I be?" Hermione asked, only half her attention on him. She was reading the same law she'd read before. It didn't require her full attention; what she'd read had seemed fair at the time. This read-through was just to be sure.

"For all your criticizing my drinking habits, you certainly did your fair share last night. Or do you not remember? You complained of a congo coming out of your nose."

"Conga line," Hermione corrected. "And I feel better now. Now be quiet, I'm trying to concentrate."

Malfoy fell into silence until Hermione finished. She'd expected him to have riddled the law with obscure clauses, or double talk, or narrow loopholes that only one who was paying close attention would spot. To her surprise, she found only two such instances, but she couldn't tell if they were intentional or not. She marked them with her quill, then set the scroll aside and read the next.

When she was done marking that one, she rolled it up and said, "I don't understand you."

"The laws are very plain."

"No. Not _them. You._ And I don't want to spend time trying to figure out your game. So please save me the time and tell me."

Malfoy frowned. "Now it is you who are being confusing."

"First you don't want to help, then you do, then you don't, then you do. And instead of telling me that through, say, an owl, which, for someone as keen on propriety as you are, would have been the thing to do, you wake me up in the middle of the night, shove these scrolls at me, and tell me we ought to work on them right then. Then, you invite yourself into my home, and we both know you'd rather move in with Hagrid and live off Hippogriff dung than sit on my couch. And these laws are almost fair. Which, for someone who insisted that Muggle-hunting was a wizard's right, is suspicious to say the least. What are you playing at?"

He didn't respond right away. Cocking his head to one side, he looked at her appraisingly. At last, he said, "There are reasons."

"'There are reasons'," Hermione repeating, rolling her eyes. "Is that the best you can do? Why not just say it, hmm? You're trying to win Narcissa back."

Malfoy's face clouded over. "In future," he said quietly, "you will refrain from mentioning that name."

Hermione frowned. "Narcissa? What's wrong with saying that?" Then, as she realized why Malfoy didn't want to hear the name, she said, "Oh, I'm sorry. But it's true, isn't it? You must miss her terribly."

His expression became something Hermione couldn't identify - a strange combination of emotions. She wished she could tell what they were, but there were few people whose faces she could read, and she'd been friends with them most of her life.

Malfoy didn't answer her. Instead, in a very quiet voice, he said, "I suggest we focus on the work."

Hermione watched as he Summoned a scroll to him, unrolled it, and stretched it out flat on the coffee table. As she studied his face, it occurred to her what she was seeing. She couldn't believe it at first, but it was clear.

Malfoy was in pain.

It made Malfoy so sympathetic, so _human,_ that Hermione had the urge to hug him, to comfort him as she would a friend.

But there was something in his eyes that indicated something else was happening behind that mask he so often wore. A flash of something Hermione recognized. Anger. Perhaps hatred. She wasn't sure.

"Yes," she said, finally. "That's the important thing."

She moved from the chair to sit beside him on the couch. He stiffened, then cleared his throat and adjusted himself so there was an inch more of space between them.

"Have you any ideas for what should be completed next?" he asked.

"Oh, yes. Lots."

He sighed. "Hardly surprising."

"Well, if you think you have something that would be better-"

"Oh, no. Please. Go ahead."

Noting his suspiciously polite behaviour, Hermione said, "I think we should be able to tell the Ministry when they've made a mistake, and have them fix it. We should have a law that says it's our right to ask for compensation of wrongs."

"Such as those irritating searches you and yours conduct each month?" Malfoy suggested.

"No, like mistakenly sending the wrong person to Azkaban. The Ministry should have to provide reparations if they did that."

Malfoy blinked. He looked thoughtful for a moment, then turned his attention to the parchment.

"You don't agree?" Hermione asked.

"On the contrary. It is... a fair law. One I would have expected the Ministry to have thought of long before now."

Hermione smiled. "Me too. It's just so obvious, you know?"

"Yes." He looked as if the next words pained him to think, much less voice. "Impressive, Miss Granger." Without waiting for her response, he set his quill to the paper and began writing.

Within a few hours, they'd completed several proposals for new laws. Hermione's stomach was growling so loudly, she was sure Malfoy could hear it.

"I think that's enough for today," she announced. "I'll take these to Kingsley on Monday and see what he thinks."

"Very well." He stood. "Shall I come back tomorrow?"

Hermione blinked. This was getting stranger and stranger. "Please don't." As she collected the scrolls, she added, "I'll let you know if we have anything else to do after I talk to Kingsley." She looked up at him. He was watching her with an expression she couldn't decipher, but assumed was impatience. "Oh, relax. When the laws start passing, I bet Narcissa will come back. You've waited all this time. You can wait a few more days."

Malfoy stiffened. "You're quite keen on your assumption. I see that all your knowledge derives from books. You have no perceptive abilities to speak of."

"I do so," Hermione protested, offended at the accusation. "I watched your face before. It's killing you being without her. It must break your heart. And, before today, I wasn't sure you even had one."

A condescending smile overtook Malfoy's features. "Is that what you think you saw?" He shook his head. "No perceptive abilities at all."

He turned and left, an indignant Hermione glaring after him.

~*~  
~*~*~*~  
~*~*~*~  
|| 

"So then," Hermione said, "he said I'd read him wrong and he left. He is _such_ a bastard."

_"Really?_" Ginny asked. "Hmmm. Wish I could have found a way to tell you that before."

Hermione swatted Ginny on the arm with a pillow from the couch. "What do you think he meant, anyway?"

Ginny shrugged. "Dunno. Don't really care. I'd rather not think about Malfoy's love life."

"I guess he just doesn't want to admit what he feels. _Men._ Typical."

"Oops," said a voice from the doorway.

Hermione and Ginny looked up. Harry and George had just entered.

"'Oops', what?" Ginny asked.

"Think we picked the wrong time to come in," Harry said. "Doesn't sound like men are welcome just now."

"What did Ron do this time?" George asked. "Must've been something awful big, 'cause he's not even in the country right now."

"It's not Ron," Hermione said. "It's Lucius Malfoy. He's making all these great laws so that our world will be fairer so that he can get Narcissa and Draco back, but he gets so rude when I mention it."

Harry shrugged. "Then stop mentioning it."

"But I just-"

"It's not your business, Hermione. If he doesn't want you to talk about it, then don't talk about it."

"But he's behaving so strangely. He actually wanted to work in my-"

"If he's not breaking any laws, it's not your business," Harry said. "Leave him alone."

"That was _his_ idea?" Ginny asked, ignoring Harry.

"Yes. He asked me last night. In the middle of the night. If my head hadn't hurt so bad, I'd have hexed him a new one."

_"Oh,"_ George said, suddenly interested. "How'd the hangover cure work?"

"Like a really disgusting charm," Ginny answered. Turning back to Hermione, she asked, "How'd he know where you live?"

"He said he-"

"What do you mean, 'disgusting'?" George asked. "It tasted fine when I tried it."

"Maybe it starts to taste bad if you just let it sit around."

"Which isn't good," Hermione said. "No one is going to come out and buy it the same night they get drunk. But, I was telling you about Malfoy, remember? He-"

"You and Ron need to figure out how to fix that before you sell it," Harry said, and Hermione knew he was deliberately cutting off any and all talk about Malfoy. She also knew that, if he didn't want to listen, she wouldn't be able to complete her story any time soon.

"Yeah," George said. "Ron's terrible at that part, though. Better do it myself."

"Good idea," Hermione agreed. She got to her feet. "I think I'll go see if Luna feels like company."

"And by that she means she's going to complain to Luna and see if she'll listen," Harry translated.

"More likely she'll end up listening to Loony Lovegood talk about triple-horned Snargwongers that turn invisible."

"Don't call her Loony," Ginny said. "She's not."

"And anyway," Hermione added, "Everyone knows Snargwongers have _four_ horns and don't live in Britain." She winked at him.

"Give Luna my love," Ginny said as Hermione turned to leave. She paused, then added, "And tell her Harry said hello, too."

"What?" Harry said. "Oh, right. Yeah. Tell her that."

Ginny shook her head and laughed as Hermione left.

~*~  
~*~*~*~  
~*~*~*~  
|| 

The following Monday, Hermione went to Kingsley's office as soon as she arrived at the Ministry.

"Hermione," Kingsley said, surprised. "What are you doing here? Is something wrong?"

"Not at all," Hermione said. She held up her bag. "I've got new proposals for you."

Kingsley smiled sympathetically. "Couldn't help yourself? Yeah, I know that urge to get things done. But I've told you, you need another-"

"Mr. Malfoy and I wrote them over the weekend."

The smile turned to a frown of confusion. "But you said... Didn't you tell me he'd decided he didn't want to be part of this?"

"He changed his mind. And, by the way, someone in the Ministry told him where I live. He just about broke the door down the other night."

"Someone in the _Ministry?"_ Kingsley looked outraged. "Who?"

"I don't know. He didn't give me a name. He just said he still had friends on the inside."

"That is just... I will look into this. It won't happen again."

"Thank you," Hermione said. "It was a little... scary having him turn up like that. It was also a little strange because he had two drafts already written. We did more on Saturday, and he asked if we could work again on Sunday, but I told him I wanted to get what we'd finished to you, first."

"That is..." He looked thoughtful. "It's either very refreshing, or highly suspicious."

"That's what I thought, as well," Hermione agreed. "The part about it being suspicious, I mean."

"And these drafts he wrote, were they fair?"

"Mostly. I found a few holes, but it looked like he'd made a real effort."

"Very refreshing, or highly suspicious," Kingsley repeated. Then, becoming less introspective and more business-like, he said, "Well, you'll have to keep an eye on him for me. I want you to stop work on any re-written or new laws. I've looked at what you and Mr. Malfoy have done, and, overall, I think you did well. I've made some notes on revisions, and I want you to be sure Lucius sees them. I don't want him to cry foul play."

"Foul play?"

"Yes. That he'll claim he signed other laws, and I changed it after the fact. We must be fair."

"Right. Or we'll end up like the Muggles."

"Exactly. And no one wants that. I've placed the laws on your desk. Get them back to me whenever you meet with Mr. Malfoy again. In the meantime, I'll take a look at what you did over the weekend."

Hermione gave him the scrolls and returned to her office. She hadn't even had time to see what notes Kingsley had made when Frank stuck his head into the room.

"Just got a notice of underage magic," he said. "Will you send out the letter? I'd do it, but I'm in the middle of something important. Set the hearing for next Friday."

"Sure," Hermione said. As she conjured the letter and filled in the appropriate information, she wondered if she could sneak in a law that let anyone use magic, so long as they didn't do it in front of Muggles, unless they were Muggleborn, and then it could be in front of their family. The sheer number of notices for different infractions was getting to be ridiculous.

When she finished her work for the day, Hermione sent an owl to Malfoy telling him she could meet with him the following evening, if he had the time. He did not send his owl with a response, but showed up at half seven. Hermione explained what Kingsley wanted Malfoy to do, and gave him the marked-up scrolls.

"You don't have to stay here to go through them," she said. "Just take them home and give them to me when you're done. Then I'll go over them and, if they're okay, I'll give them to Kingsley."

"I will stay," he said, sitting down as if his word settled the matter.

"There's no reason to," Hermione pressed. "We're not working. You're just reading."

"You invited me here, did you not?"

"Yeah. But only to give you-"

"I will do this now, so that we can we move forward. There's no sense in dragging this out for days."

That was logic that Hermione couldn't argue with. What would she say? _Oh, no, I insist we make this take as long as possible? _

She sighed. "Suit yourself, then. Just write down what you don't like on each one, and we'll go over all of them at once. It'll be faster that way."

She retrieved a book which Luna had given her as a birthday present the year before, and which she still had yet to get through. It was so ridiculous that Hermione had kept setting it aside and promising herself she'd go back to it when she had the time.

As she read, she heard noises coming from Malfoy's direction: the crackling of the parchment, the slight sound he made as he shifted position in his chair. Though she wanted to ask if he'd told Narcissa what he was doing, and if she'd agreed to return, she remembered Harry's admonition and said nothing. She wasn't sure how long had passed before he spoke.

"That will be enough for today."

Hermione looked over the top of her book. "But... You've a lot more to go through."

"I also have other plans for the rest of my evening. I will return tomorrow. If it suits your schedule."

"Erm, I guess. Yeah. Same time, then."

As soon as Malfoy had gone, Hermione looked through the parchments he'd worked on. He'd made a few objections here and there, and Hermione wondered if he'd meant them, or if it was token resistance. She decided she'd ask when they debated about it the next night.

The following evening, Malfoy arrived at exactly half seven once again. As they went over the points Malfoy had taken issue with, Hermione couldn't help but notice he wasn't nearly as belligerent as he used to be. She felt a surge of sympathy for him; he must have been horribly heartsick, because that organ just wasn't in his fight. And then, it dawned on her why he was so willing to be away from his home; it carried too many reminders of his wife and son.

After they'd finished, Hermione sat down to draft clean copies while Malfoy started on the parchments he hadn't got to the night before. She liked working this way; getting his objections in one place at one time and discussing them later allowed her to form arguments calmly, instead of reacting in anger or frustration. It was much more efficient than fighting. She dreaded the day their proposals returned with Kingsley's approval; they would be back to fighting over every detail as they hammered out brand new laws.&lt;

They didn't speak as they worked, but as Malfoy set one parchment aside and pulled another to him, he said, "It must be painful, to show so much self-control."

Hermione looked up at him. "What are you talking about?"

"You enjoy putting your nose where it does not belong, yet you have not once mentioned Draco or his mother in the past two evenings. You must be in physical agony."

Hermione shrugged. "I don't care," she lied smoothly. "It's not my business."

"And I only had to tell you as much forty, or was it fifty, times?"

Hermione gave him a look. "It wasn't because of what _you_ said."

"No?"

"No."

"Then I suppose the Weasley girl's influence changed your mind."

Hermione opened her mouth to respond, then shut it again. _No, it was Harry's_ didn't sound much better, and she didn't feel like enduring a taunting contest with Malfoy. In the silence, an idea came to her.

"Actually, I realized I didn't like it when people asked me about me and Ron, or me and Harry, so you must not like it when people ask about your personal life, either."

"You... and...?" He cocked his head to one side. "Strange. I don't recall hearing anything of the sort."

"No, you wouldn't have. Not unless you follow Rita Skeeter. But she made a big spectacle in one of the papers, about my playing with Harry's heart, and some hogwash about love potions, I don't really remember. But every woman with an owl let me know what she think of that. Very unpleasant. And then, two years later, Ron was a total prat to me for no reason. He even started to date someone else. And by 'date' I mean 'try to suck her lips off at every opportunity right in front of me'. So I know what it's like to have someone you care about be so careless with your feelings. I didn't want to have long discussions about that, and my guess is, you don't, either."

He gave her a look that told her he didn't think she understood at all. "You compare childhood behaviour with my situation?"

Hermione shrugged again. "Feelings are feelings, and they hurt just as badly no matter _when_ something happens. If Ron were doing that today, it wouldn't hurt any more just because we're not at Hogwarts anymore."

When Malfoy didn't respond, Hermione turned back to her parchment. She'd hoped to get some information out of him by opening up, but he still wasn't keen to share.

As she wrote, she began to feel as if she were being watched, but Malfoy was the only other person there and, when she looked at him, he was hidden behind his own parchment. Ignoring the feeling, she returned to her task. Several minutes passed before Malfoy spoke again.

"I'm not doing this for Narcissa," he said quietly.

Looking over at him, Hermione asked, "What?"

"I'm not doing this for Narcissa," he repeated at the same volume.

She didn't understand. "You don't want Narcissa and Draco to come back?"

"That is not what I said."

"Then what _are_ you saying?"

There was something about his demeanor that made Hermione tense. She couldn't decide if he was trying to control his emotions, or if he had no emotions to control. The look he gave her was strange, and she couldn't decipher its meaning. It seemed to her that his eyes were a brighter grey than usual. Not lighter, but clearer.

"I want my son back in my home. It is where he belongs."

"And Narcissa?"

"I think it best she remains in Spain."

That didn't make sense to Hermione. "I don't... I mean, that doesn't... Are you just saying that because..." She wasn't sure if she should finish. Malfoy had opened up to her. Had let her farther into his personal life than he ever had when circumstances weren't forcing his hand. This was untraversed territory, and she wasn't convinced that the wrong word or phrase wouldn't cause Malfoy to close up again. "Because... you're angry that she hurt you? Because when Ron hurt me, I deliberately tried to push him away and make him jealous, and hurt him, too."

"You did that because you still felt something for him. Narcissa and I no longer feel anything for one another."

"But... That's not true." She considered moving to sit closer to him, as she would have done if she was trying to comfort a friend, but she did not delude herself into believing that Malfoy was a friend. "She said she still loves you. In that letter, remember?"

Malfoy smiled mirthlessly. "I believe that was her way of, how do you put it? Letting me go easily?"

"Down," Hermione corrected, more out of habit than anything, but Malfoy didn't seem to take offence.

"Yes. Down. She thought it was necessary. It wasn't. She no longer loves me, and the feeling is mutual."

"But she said-"

"She said what she thought the proper thing to say. She said it because she thought the lie would hurt less than the truth. It's a curious thing, that women so often believe that. It's the lie that causes more pain. Or, it would have if I were pining for her." He paused, then said, "I have never asked her to return. I have only asked my son. I told him that I would go to Spain, and bring both him and Astoria back if he asked me to. Narcissa sent me that letter after I first asked Draco to come home, assuming the invitation was for two. It was wholly unnecessary. She belongs in Spain. Or France. Or wherever she chooses to live her life."

"But... you've been drinking so much. I thought-"

"You thought I was feeling miserable over life without her? No. It is my son that I miss. It has never been her."

Hermione didn't know what to say. She found herself longing for the times when Malfoy ordered her to mind her own business; his opening up made everything awkward. She wanted to segue into another topic, but could think of no natural way to do so. And trying to pretend all was normal and get back to work without saying anything was rude.

"I'm sorry," she said at last. It was feeble, but it was true.

"Are you?" Malfoy challenged. "I doubt you are. It seems to me that you would delight in my suffering. I have never been kind to you. I have never given you a reason to feel anything except loathing."

"I'm sorry because you miss someone you love, and can't get them back. I suffered that for a whole year when I had to leave my parents. When Ron left me and Harry... It's agony. And I'm sorry you're feeling it. That doesn't mean I forgive you for anything you've done. But I know how much you love Draco. So, yes, I'm sorry."

It was Malfoy's turn to fall silent. Hermione waited to take her cue from him, hoping he'd pull the parchment in front of his face and resume reading to put an end to the awkwardness and restore normalcy. Instead, he spoke again.

"You love the Weasley boy."

Hermione couldn't tell if it was a question or a statement. "Ron? Well, we're not together at the moment." That didn't answer the question, did it? She cleared her throat. "I mean, yes. I guess I do. To a certain extent, I suppose."

"Why?"

"What?"

"Why do you love him?"

If Hermione thought it was awkward to discuss Malfoy's life, it was nothing to the feeling of his turning the tables and discussing hers. "Because... Why does anyone love anyone? It's how you feel."

"But there must be something about him that you find appealing. And I admit, I find it peculiar. You are so unmatched."

"And what, exactly, does _that_ mean?"

Malfoy smiled. "No need to take offence, Miss Granger. It was a compliment. You are a mature overachiever with moments of immaturity. He, on the other hand, is perpetually immature with brief glimpses of maturity, and an acute unwillingness to grow up. Not to mention an aversion to anything to which the term 'work' can be applied."

Though she couldn't deny that Ron was immature, and was never keen on work, Hermione couldn't let Malfoy's insults go. "First of all," she said, growing angry, "Ron _does_ work. He helps George at the shop, and he's joined the Aurors. So-"

"Ah, yes, but how long before he loses interest? And how much does he really contribute?"

"You know what?" Hermione shot back. "Keep your mouth shut about Ron. You've no right to talk that way about him. Especially since you married such a hag."

"My, my, but we _are_ defensive. And after I paid you such a kind compliment."

"What are you doing?" Hermione asked. "I wish you'd pick a state of mind. We had a nice moment just now, and you just couldn't let it lie, could you?"

"They were just questions, Miss Granger. I thought you enjoyed answering questions."

"You were insulting Ron."

"I said nothing that isn't true. If it's insulting, it is his fault, not mine."

"You don't know him."

"I know all I need to."

His calm attitude only irritated Hermione more. "Stop talking about him."

He chuckled. "You are the one who returned the subject to him."

"You're _infuriating,_ you know that? Tell me, is the whole reason you want Draco back because he's your only heir? Because I don't think you're capable of missing him for any other reason."

Malfoy's expression hardened. "I love my son."

"I thought so, too, but the way you behave-"

"Do not presume to know anything about my emotions, Miss Granger," he said, his voice like steel.

"If you don't presume to know anything about Ron, I won't presume to tell you how you feel," she countered.

"Such loyalty. It's almost commendable."

"Yes, well, I'm not one to run out on my relationships just because someone's name isn't as prominent as I'd like it to be. Pathetic reason, by the way. Tell her that from me."

"Next time, read more carefully," he said, rising to his feet. Hermione gripped her wand, but he only started to pace. "If you had, you would have seen that that was not the sole cause. Our marriage was over long before. We have both accepted that and moved on."

"Moved on? You can't _move on_ when you're married. And she said she wouldn't have a divorce."

"A divorce, no. But an agreement, yes."

"Which means...?"

He stopped pacing. "Neither of us sees a reason to live a life of celibacy. We are both free to pursue other relationships, if we so choose."

"Other relationships?" Hermione repeated.

"Yes." He cocked his head to one side, watching her. "Even those of an intimate nature."

Hermione was horrified at this twist in the conversation, and surprised at how neutral Malfoy's tone was. Discussing Malfoy's sex life, with Malfoy or not, was _not_ a place she wished to venture. Returning her attention to her parchment, she cleared her throat and said, "I think we'd better finish here."

A smile played at his lips, and only the slightest bit of amusement coloured his voice. "Is this an uncomfortable topic for you?" He stepped closer. "Come now. We are adults, are we not? Surely adults can discuss sex without discomfort."

"I'm not uncomfortable. I just think we should finish these before Kingsley gives us more. I don't want to get too far behind."

"A concern you did not have a moment ago."

"Yes, well, I've just remembered I have... I have an early day tomorrow. I should get to sleep soon."

"I see," Malfoy said in a way that told Hermione he didn't believe her. "Very well."

Though Malfoy said nothing more on the subject, Hermione couldn't rid herself of the knot of discomfort in her stomach. Malfoy had shut her out every time she'd tried to get him to open up, and, on the first occasion he did, he went so far as to discuss his sex life. It seemed as though he was challenging her, but she couldn't imagine why. Perhaps he was only trying to make her uncomfortable, in which case she was determined not to let him know it worked. She focused on her parchments and said nothing to him for the rest of the night.

When Hermione reported to Kingsley the next morning, she wanted to tell him she no longer felt comfortable working with Malfoy, but could think of no way to do that without explaining what Malfoy had said to her, and she didn't want to repeat it to Kingsley; it would be even worse than awkward.

She sent an owl to Malfoy, and went on with her day's work of hearings, notices, and other law enforcement duties. She finished early, and decided to drop by Ginny's. Harry answered, surprised to see an anxious Hermione on the doorstep.

"Hi," Hermione said. "Is Ginny home?"

He motioned her inside. "No, she's dropping Fred off at George's." He paused. "I'm never going to get used to that."

"To what?" she asked as she entered. "Oh. I _know._ It can get confusing, can't it? I'm going to be much more original with my children's names. When will Ginny be back?"

"Soon, I expect. What's the matter?"

Hermione tried her best to look innocent. "Nothing."

"Because I don't know you well enough that I can't tell when something is wrong," Harry said.

It took Hermione's brain a moment to process what he meant. "Nothing is _wrong._ I just need to talk to someone. That's all."

"Erm, Hermione? What am I? A bag of oats?"

Hermione couldn't help but smile. "No, of course not. I just... It has to be Ginny."

At first, Harry looked confused. Then he looked uncomfortable. "Oh, I get it. Yeah. You should definitely wait for her."

"You... get it?" Hermione asked, confused.

"Yeah. Female things. I understand. I don't want to know. It's okay."

"Harry, what are you talking... Oh. No, it's nothing like..." Deciding that explanation was easier than the real one, Hermione changed tack. "Well, yeah. It is. Female things."

"Good. I think I'll go check on dinner while you wait."

"You can't catch it, you know," Hermione teased.

"I know. But the food'll burn otherwise. You're welcome to stay and eat, if you want."

He disappeared into the corridor, and Hermione began to pace. She wasn't quite sure what she was going to say. She wasn't even sure it was such a big deal that it needed mentioning. But she needed to get someone else's opinion, and to see if there was another angle she hadn't considered. This was Lucius Malfoy she was dealing with, and she couldn't be too careful.

Harry joined her in the living room a few minutes later. They talked for a while, but Hermione's mind wasn't on the conversation. As soon as Harry saw Ginny through the window, he said he had to check on dinner again and disappeared.

When Ginny entered the house, she was happy to find Hermione waiting for her.

"Hey, look who decided she could spare some time from work for us. Where's Harry?"

"In the kitchen. Or, more likely, he's hiding until we've talked."

"Why would he hide?" Ginny asked, hanging up her cloak.

"Because I told him I needed to talk to you about female things."

Ginny gave her a look. "'Female things'? Please tell me you didn't say it that way."

"No. He did."

Ginny laughed. "He's never going to get used to-"

"But that's not why I came. I just went along with him."

"Then what's going on?" Ginny asked as she led the way to the couch. Sitting on it cross-legged, she looked up at Hermione expectantly.

"Well," Hermione said, sitting close to Ginny and talking in a conspiratorial whisper. "Last night, I was talking to Malfoy."

"Uh oh." Ginny sighed.

"We were talking about Narcissa and Draco, and he was telling me how he felt about it all."

Ginny's eyebrows arched. "He _told_ you? Really? Just like that?"

"More or less. He told me how much he misses Draco, but doesn't really care about Narcissa. And then he..."

"He what?" Ginny prompted.

"He said..." This was harder than Hermione anticipated. She and Ginny had talked about sex before, but for some reason, this was different.

"Come on," Ginny said. "Just blurt it out."

That sounded like as good a plan as any. "He said that we're both adults and should be able to talk about sex like grown ups."

_"Sex?"_ Ginny exclaimed.

"Shhhhh," Hermione hissed, looking around. "Harry'll hear you."

Rolling her eyes, Ginny said, "Harry knows what sex is, Hermione. And I'm sure he's figured out that you have it."

"I don't care. I don't want him to know what Malfoy said. It's bad enough as it is."

Ginny wasn't inclined to argue. "Fine. But why was Malfoy talking to _you_ about sex?"

"We were talking about Narcissa, and he told me that they've both decided to be with other people, even have sex with other people."

" He was talking about his _sex life?_ That's absolutely revolting. Ergh. I hoped you hexed his bits right off."

"No, I didn't think of that."

"Well, what happened after all this?"

"I told him we had work to do, and we got back to work."

Ginny's expression became incredulous. "Tell me that's a joke."

"No, it's true. I couldn't make him leave. He was already taunting me about being uncomfortable. I couldn't give him the satisfaction."

"So, instead, you sit down beside the bastard and keep writing out laws as if _nothing happened?"_

"What else was I supposed to do?"

"Hex his bits off."

"I'll keep that in mind for next time."

"'Next time'? You're going to let there be a _next time?_ What could you possibly be _thinking?"_

"I _have_ to work with him. The Ministry needs him."

"No, you don't. Pick someone new."

"I can't. No one on their side has as much influence as he does. And Kingsley loves the work we're doing together. I've already tried to get out of working with Malfoy twice. Kingsley won't let me. He'll probably re-assign it, and I don't want anyone else doing it."

"He'll let you when you tell him what Malfoy's up to."

"Which is what? He's just trying to make me uncomfortable. The only thing I could tell Kingsley is that Malfoy mentioned sex, and then he would tell me to tell Malfoy not to do it again. He's not going to intervene and say Malfoy is unworthy of making these laws because he mentioned sex. He's already told me I can't listen to what Malfoy says. I don't want him to think I can't handle Malfoy."

Ginny grew quiet, then an idea lit up her face. "Turn the tables on him."

"On who? Kingsley?"

_"Malfoy."_

"Oh, right. I knew that. What do you mean, 'turn the tables'?"

"He's just trying to make you uncomfortable, right? He likes to watch you squirm. So whatever he says or does, just turn it back on him. Make him think you think it's the most fun you've ever had, to flirt with him or whatever he's doing."

Hermione stared at Ginny.

"What?" Ginny asked.

"You just told me to seduce _Lucius Malfoy._ I mean, _you_ just told me to seduce Lucius Malfoy."

"No, I didn't. I told you to _flirt_ with him. That'll make him uncomfortable, and teach him a lesson, too."

"That's... I can't flirt with him. Remember Ron? Your brother? Who will hold this against me for the next twenty years? Remember Viktor? Ron was furious that I'd kissed him years before anything happened between him and me."

Ginny shrugged. "Ron's out of the country. And I won't tell him. If _you_ don't, how is he going to find out?"

Hermione considered it. Ginny had a point; Ron would never know. And she and Ron weren't officially together; not that that would stop him from being angry if he ever found out, but it meant she had no moral obstacles. "Flirt with Malfoy..."

"Yes," Ginny said, an expression of hungry excitement on her face. "Make him _squirm."_

"Is that what you would do?"

"No. I'd hex his bits off. Then, I'd tell Kingsley what Malfoy did, while slipping in a clause into any one of the laws that says anyone who did what he did gets a year in Azkaban."

"Don't you think that's a bit harsh?"

"No. He was talking about his _sex life."_ She made a face. "Ergh. I don't want to think of Malfoy as having the anatomy of a male. I sure wouldn't want to hear about what he does with it."

"It wasn't quite like that. It was-"

"I don't care. I'd have to _think_ about it, wouldn't I?" She smiled again. "I'd pay to see you make him writhe like a worm on a hook. I really would."

Hermione thought about it. She'd said she didn't want Malfoy to know that he could get to her. She hadn't tried to think of ways to prove it, and therefore hadn't thought of anything on her own, but this seemed a reasonable option.

"I'll do it."

~*~  
~*~*~*~  
~*~*~*~  
|| 

The rest of the day found Hermione feeling sick to her stomach. What if Malfoy called her bluff? What if he took her seriously, and refused to work with her any longer? In hindsight, Hermione was sure he'd been messing about, trying to upset her. Maybe she should just forget Ginny's idea and pretend it never happened. With any luck, in a few days' time, she'd never have to see Malfoy again. There was no need to make the situation any worse than it had to be.

As the time for Malfoy's arrival drew nearer, Hermione decided she'd overreacted. It was a silly joke, not a serious offence. It was best to forget the whole thing.

But what if he brought the subject up again? Then, she decided, she'd do it. She'd at least say something, this time. Maybe she'd take Ginny's advice, and maybe she'd just tell him he was out of line and he'd better not do it again. She wasn't sure.

A knock at the door signalled Malfoy's arrival. Hermione took a breath to calm herself, and opened it the same way she always did.

"Hello," she greeted, standing aside to allow him entrance.

Malfoy entered without a word, as usual. She waited for him to make an inappropriate remark, or give her a look that said he still found the previous night amusing, but he displayed no signs of doing either. She led him to the sitting room, where she gave him the last of the scrolls that Kingsley had altered, and then she sat down with her own batch to occupy herself while Malfoy read and added his own revisions.

Instead of taking his usual chair, he sat beside her on the couch. Chalking it up to his trying to get under her skin again, Hermione shifted so that there was a seat between them. Then, she began to write as if everything was normal.

They worked in silence, the sound of quills scratching parchment and the occasional clearing of a throat the only noise in the room.

Every now and then, Hermione would steal a covert glimpse in Malfoy's direction, but he was always focused on the parchment in front of him, seemingly unaware that there was anyone else in the room.

In the break between finishing one draft and beginning another, Hermione allowed her gaze to travel to Malfoy, who was writing something on his parchment.

"If you're going to look, then look. But stop trying to sneak. You're no good at it, and it's irritating."

Hermione started, but, as casually as she could, said, "I've no idea what you're on about, Mr. Malfoy."

He finished what he was writing and looked at her. "Yes, you do. And we are too old for such childish games."

Hermione set her quill down, readying herself for a fight. "That's a laugh, coming from you. Do I need to remind you what you did the other night?"

Malfoy smiled, as if he'd been waiting for this topic to arise. He adjusted his body so that he was facing her. "Ah, and here it comes. Please, tell me how _utterly unacceptable_ my behaviour was, and how it will _not_ be tolerated a second time."

It was eerie, how close that came to something Hermione might say. But, remembering Ginny's advice, she decided that if Malfoy wanted to push, there was no reason she shouldn't push back.

"Was that your game?" she asked. "It didn't work."

Malfoy looked doubtful. "No?"

"Not even close." She hesitated, then decided to go through with it. "I... I mean, I _was_ uncomfortable, but not because of why you think."

"Oh?" It was clear Hermione had caught his interest. "Then why?"

"Because..." _Make him squirm,_ she reminded herself. "Because, for a second, _just_ a second, I thought you might be serious. And... I was torn. I wanted to tell you the truth, but I wasn't sure if I should."

"And what truth is that?"

"That I..." She couldn't say it. She should have known she couldn't say it. "Nothing. Forget I mentioned it." Reaching for his pile of finished scrolls, she said, "I'll take a look at these now. I'm sure we'll have lots to fight over before they're settled."

He grabbed her wrist. "That you what?"

Her stomach lurched. For one horrified moment, she didn't react. Then, pulling her hand out of his hold as if she'd been stung, she said, "It was nothing. Honestly. I shouldn't have said anything."

"Perhaps I paid you that compliment in error." He turned back toward the table, grabbing another parchment. "Perhaps 'overachiever' would have sufficed."

Hermione knew exactly what he meant, and could not let the insult go. "You're one to call me, or anyone else, immature. You can't have a decent conversation with anyone."

"I meant no harm in what I said. I merely-"

"All you ever mean is harm. And when you don't, it's only because you want something."

"Forgive me. I hadn't counted on such a parochial mindset."

_"Parochial?_ Malfoy, what made you think that I..." She cut herself off. Finishing the question the way she intended would have just lent credence to any argument Malfoy might make about her state of mind.

"Yes?"

"That I would want to hear anything about you and Narcissa," she finished. Her stomach turned and began to shrink in on itself. She couldn't believe she was going to do this. "Why would I want to talk about her, when we could talk about..._us?"_ It was all she could do not to immediately announce that she was joking.

The look of pure shock on Malfoy's face made her restraint worth it. His jaw was slightly open. He was dumbfounded, and Hermione felt a surge of triumph. She hoped he was feeling as uncomfortable as she had.

"Well, you wanted to know," Hermione said. When Malfoy didn't speak, she asked, "Aren't you going to say anything?"

Something glinted in Malfoy's eyes. Calmly, he set his parchment down, then turned to face her again. "You wish to discuss... the two of us." It was a statement.

"That's what I said. We _are_ adults, after all. Surely we can discuss sex without discomfort." She fought back a smile at using his own words against him. "Or are you too _uncomfortable_ to have that discussion with me?"

"You realize, of course, that you and I are not-"

"I know. _Believe me,_ I know. Painfully aware, thanks. But..." _Make him squirm. There's no sense in backing out now._ She moved closer to him, so that she was sitting near enough to touch him without actually doing so. "But it gives me a horrible, tight feeling in my stomach, to think that we can never... And when I heard you talking about _that woman,_ it just hurt so much. I couldn't bear it." She wasn't sure if she should laugh at herself, or cringe at the words she was saying.

Again, Malfoy's eyes flashed. Narrowing them, he said, "I am not so foolish as to believe you."

"I knew you wouldn't," Hermione said, not missing a beat because it was true. "That's why I didn't want to tell you. But you just couldn't let it go." She shook her head. "If you don't believe me, there's no point in continuing to talk about it." She reached for a scroll. "Let's just finish here, and-"

She gasped as Malfoy grabbed her face in both his hands. There wasn't even time for her to ask him what he thought he was doing, before his lips were on hers. Her open mouth made it easy for Malfoy to slip his tongue inside.

Hermione's stomach twisted as something began to flutter inside it. It wasn't anything like the butterflies she was used to. It was more like a few albatrosses had taken residence.

Grabbing his hands, and pulling them from her face, Hermione scrambled off the couch, nearly tripping over the coffee table in her haste to get away from him.

"You... What did you just... You _kissed_ me."

"Yes, I did."

Hermione couldn't help but notice that Malfoy was strangely at ease, for having just condescended to kiss her.

"But... You... I..."

"The next time you decide to try to manipulate me, don't. You haven't the skill for it. Now, perhaps we can finish what I came here to do."

Hermione was disgusted with more than just Malfoy's kiss. "You did that to... You were trying to teach me a _lesson?"_

"And, quick learner that you are, I'm sure you've understood it."

"You _bastard._ What if I had meant what I said? You would've-"

"These are games you are not experienced enough to play. I am not the Weasley boy. I am not so easily made into your puppet. Nor will I to back down from a challenge."

Inexplicably infuriated, Hermione marched back to the couch. She couldn't let Malfoy get away with besting her in her own home. She thought about hexing his bits off, about how proud Ginny, at least, would be of her. Then, she decided that if it was a challenge he wanted, it was a challenge he'd get.

Inwardly, she hesitated, as her brain screamed at her not to engage in this game with Malfoy. But she ignored her thoughts and gave in to her emotions, sitting down beside Malfoy again, so close that their knees touched.

Then, she grabbed his face, as he had done with her, and kissed him.

He froze, as if he hadn't been expecting that, or would dearly love to pull away. Instead of doing either, he cupped her face with one hand and deepened the kiss, once again slipping his tongue into her mouth, ghosting it over her teeth and tongue where she could taste the wintergreen from his mouth. Again, she felt that fluttering in her stomach, so powerful it made her gasp.

Then, without warning, he shifted his weight, encouraging, but not forcing, her to lie back. _It's a challenge,_ she told herself. _It's his way of raising the stakes, just so he can win again._ She let herself lie back, sure he would back down after that.

Instead, he stretched out over her, never once breaking their kiss. _Fine,_ she thought. If this was the game he wanted to play, she could still beat him. She tangled her fingers in his hair, and pulled him closer.

But Malfoy showed no signs of backing down. The feeling of his hand at her waist jolted her. He wasn't going to stop. He _would_ have sex with her, if that's what it took to prove his point. She moved her hands to his shoulders and pushed him away, turning her head aside at the same time.

"Stop."

He looked down at her, his eyes full of the same clarity they had when he told her the truth about himself and Narcissa. For a moment, his expression fell into a frown. But a blink later, it was a smug smile. He sat up.

"I trust you've learned the lesson now."

Hermione's heart was racing, her breath coming quickly. She couldn't believe what had just happened. Unsure what to do or say, she said the only thing that made sense. "You should leave now."

Malfoy raised both eyebrows. "But things were just becoming interesting."

"I mean it." Hermione got to her feet. "I want you to leave. _Right now."_

Malfoy grinned, and Hermione wondered if he hadn't wanted it to go this way, for some reason known best to himself. "Very well."

As he left, he gave Hermione a strange look, before he disappeared into the night.

Hermione watched his form grow smaller as he walked away, until he got outside the range of her spells, and Apparated into nothingness. She grabbed her travelling cloak, walked outside, and then changed her mind. She didn't want to share that night's events just yet, not even with Ginny. She needed to think on her own.

Late that night, Hermione sat in her bed, unable to sleep or decide what she should do. The only obvious solution was to stop all contact with Malfoy. But Kingsley wouldn't let her do that without an explanation, and Hermione knew she could hardly tell the Minister of Magic that she was trying to win some sort of game with Malfoy by kissing him and it had got out of hand, and now she couldn't be around him anymore. She decided she'd just have to figure something out; she couldn't be in the same room with Malfoy, and that was that.

She thought back over the night, trying to think of what she could have done differently. Ignore Ginny, for starters. And kick Malfoy out right away, instead of going back to kiss him a second time. She didn't know why she hadn't. It was the logical thing to have done. But then, she remembered, she wasn't operating on _logic._ She was listening to her _emotions._ And she wished she hadn't.

Her mind strayed back to both kisses, and her stomach began to worm around. And the more she thought about them, the more insistent the feeling became. She crossed her arms over her middle, and tried to block out the memories. But she couldn't. And then, a horrible, terrible, _awful_ thought occurred to her.

"No," she said out loud.

She remembered, vividly, how hard her heart had pounded, and how laboured her breathing became when he'd kissed her.

_But, that's only because I thought he was going to have sex with me,_ she reasoned.

Another part of her mind countered, _That's not true. It started the moment he kissed you the first time. That's why you went back for more. _

And, from the first part of her brain, came the counterargument, _No. I went back because he taunted me to._

_You_ liked _it,_ the second part insisted. _Feel those butterflies you get just_ thinking _about it?_

Hermione held her stomach tighter and fell, face-first, into her pillow. "_No,_" she whined.

She had _not_ developed feelings for Lucius Malfoy.

~*~  
~*~*~*~  
~*~*~*~  
|| 

Hermione didn't sleep at all that night. She was afraid of what dreams she might have.

In the morning, she brewed a potion to help her stay awake. Then, she gathered the remaining revised laws and took them to the Ministry with her. Her first stop was at Frank's office. She knocked on the door and, after a moment's rustling from inside, he opened it.

"Good morning, Frank," she said. "I don't have much time. Lots to do. But I was wondering if you could do a favour for me."

"Er... I dunno. I'm kinda swamped. What did you need?"

"You remember that project I told you about that Kingsley has me working on? Well, I'm nearly done, but I need Lucius Malfoy to look over a few things. I have _no time_ after work today. I promised Bill that... Bill Weasley, I mean... He needs someone to look after his daughter this evening, and I've said I will. All I need is for you to drop this at Malfoy's." She held up her bag. "Tell him he's got to make the notes on them, and then send them back to me. It will take two minutes. I'd do it, but I don't think Bill would appreciate my taking his daughter to Malfoy Manor."

"Er..." He was hesitating.

"I wouldn't ask," Hermione went on. She had to convince him. "I know there's _so much_ to do. But Kingsley really wants this done as soon as possible. Because it's going to make our society safer and help it run much more smoothly. Please. I'll owe you a _big_ favour."

He sighed. "Okay, I guess I can." He held out his hand.

_"Thank-you,"_ Hermione said, shoving the bag into his arms. "You've no idea how much I appreciate this."

As she left, she felt very proud of herself. Provided Kingsley did not ask for more revisions - which, she reminded herself, was still possible - she'd never have to interact with Malfoy again.

Hermione spent a pleasant afternoon with Ginny, Harry, and Neville. Thankfully, Ginny did not mention Malfoy in front of the boys. Hermione returned home in the late evening, where she decided she should finish drafting the new versions of the laws she and Malfoy had completed the night before. After ensuring he hadn't made any unreasonable changes, she began to write a clean version to give to Kingsley. Once Malfoy was done with what Frank had delivered to him, she'd re-write those, provided Malfoy hadn't added any unacceptable clauses, and then she'd be done. And if he _had_ written something inappropriate, she'd let Kingsley handle it.

Because she hadn't slept the previous night, Hermione found herself dozing before she'd even finished one page of parchment. She tried to fight the urge, but it was no use. She gave up and went to bed.

Hoping she'd fall asleep immediately, she closed her eyes and tried to calm her brain. But all she could think about was Malfoy. She didn't understand why she suddenly felt the way she did when, not very long before, she'd loathed the man with all her being. Had it been his vulnerability when he told her about his family? It was short-lived, but it was real, and she remembered that urge to hug him. How the whole thing had softened her feelings toward him.

But no. That was just pity. Or sympathy. Or shock, because he was so rarely acted human around her. It hadn't meant anything.

Maybe it was when he'd presented her with those suspiciously fair laws. Had she been impressed with his ability to actually _be_ fair? She couldn't remember.

She decided it didn't matter when or how these feelings came about. The important thing was to _get rid_ of them.

~*~  
~*~*~*~  
~*~*~*~  
|| 

The following morning, she was in her office when Frank showed up, holding the bag she'd given him the previous day.

"What happened?" she asked. "Didn't you go?"

"I went," he answered, setting the bag on her desk, "but Mr. Malfoy told me that if you wanted his help, you had to ask him yourself."

"But I already asked him," she protested. "And he _agreed._ That's why I asked you to go there."

Frank shrugged. "He wouldn't take it from me. Said he would work with you and no one else."

Unable to help the surprise she felt, Hermione said, "He did? Really? I'd have thought he'd be just as eager to be rid of me as I am to be rid of him."

"Yeah, well. You can take it to him today, then, and-"

_"What?"_ That was almost as bad an idea as taking Ginny's advice. "No. No, I can't. Would you mind taking it back to him?"

"Why can't-"

"Frank, you don't understand. I can't see Malfoy again. I've had enough of him. _Please."_

"Yeah, I can relate to having your fill of that git. But if he'll only work with you-"

"He'll take it. Just... I'll write a letter to him. And he'll take it."

"Hermione, why don't you just do it yourself? You aren't babysitting again, are you?"

"No." Hermione cast her mind around for ideas. "Not babysitting. But I've got other plans. Do you know Neville Longbottom?"

"_Of_ him. He was a hero in the war."

"Yes. And he needs my help with something. Some potion or other. He's never been very good at it, and he has to have it done today."

Frank sighed. "Fine. Write the letter, and I'll take this to Mr. Malfoy again."

Hermione beamed. "You're the best." She jotted down the note, magically sealed it, and gave it to Frank. "I owe you _two_ huge favours, now."

"And don't think I'm not going to hold you to that," he said as he took the bag and left.

Hermione didn't find the time to work on finishing the laws until late that night. She was hard at work, when a persistent, incessant knock on her door broke her concentration. She decided to ignore it; it wasn't any of her friends or they would knock in their code, and, if it was an emergency, they would have sent a Patronus. But the knock only seemed to get louder, the more she tried to tune it out, so she threw her quill down in frustration and went to answer it.

A quick look out of the peephole told her it was Malfoy furiously banging on her door.

Holding onto the doorknob, Hermione called, "What do _you_ want? I'm very busy."

"Open the door," he ordered.

"No."

"Open the door _this instant."_

"You really think ordering me around is going to work? I'm not Draco."

"If you do not open the door, I will burn these parchments you had that moron deliver to me. Then where will your precious new society be?"

Not for an instant did Hermione think Malfoy was lying. "_Don't._ Give me a second to unlock everything."

As soon as she'd opened the door, Malfoy barged in, the bag Hermione had given Frank held tightly in one hand, the letter she had sent along securely in the other.

"Did you truly think I would let you get away with this?" he demanded, brandishing the parchment in front of her face.

"Get away with _what?"_ Hermione asked. "I didn't do anything."

"You threatened to tell the entire wizarding world of my domestic situation if I did not take these laws."

"So what? I haven't told them, have I? You can't be angry with me for something I haven't done. And I'm not planning to. It was the only way I could think of to get you to take them."

"We had an agreement. I work with you on this ridiculous project of Shacklebolt's, and you put an end to the Preemptive Investigations. Never did I agree to take assignments from _errand boys._" He threw the bag away from him in disgust, the wadded up parchment landing beside it.

"Frank is not an errand boy. He's the _head of my department._ And what's the problem? I thought you'd be _delighted_ never to see me again."

Malfoy looked even more furious than when he first arrived. "And what led you to that conclusion? What possessed you to think you know me well enough to presume that?"

"Why wouldn't you? After..." She hesitated, but it wasn't as if he didn't know. There was no reason not to say it. "After what happened the other night."

His confusion fed his anger. "The other..." He broke off abruptly, as if he'd been Silenced. Realization lit his eyes. "You sent that fool to my home because I _kissed_ you?"

Said out loud, it sounded ridiculous, but it still made sense to her. It wasn't the kiss itself. It was how she _felt._ But the kiss was the catalyst. "Well, yeah. In a-"

He frowned, though his anger seemed to be abating. "Did you think I found you so enticing that I would be unable to control my lustful desires?"

She didn't miss the sarcasm. "I didn't-"

"Did you fear I would try to _force_ myself on you?"

"I wasn't-"

"No, I don't believe you did." He looked at her appraisingly. "I think it was _yourself_ you feared."

Hermione didn't like this. If she let him go on, he might figure out the truth. "Stop trying to be perceptive. If you just shut it for two minutes, I can explain."

He raised an eyebrow. "Please do."

"Oh." She had expected him to talk right over her again. She thought quickly, trying to come up with a plausible excuse. "I've been very busy lately, what with-"

"Do not insult my intelligence. This is nothing to do with your workload. And you've just said it was because of the kiss."

She had, hadn't she? Already, she'd forgotten.

"Do you know what I think? I think you were too frightened of what you felt to risk being alone in my presence again."

Hermione scoffed. "You think very highly of yourself," she said, moving away from him. Maybe by changing the location and the topic, she could diffuse the situation a bit. Perhaps turn the argument to whether he was as big a git as Frank thought, rather than her feelings regarding him. "But then we already knew that, didn't we?"

The sound of his footsteps indicated he was following. She quickened her pace, and he did not catch her until they were in the sitting room.

Grabbing her arm and swinging her around, he said, "I am not as unobservant as you would like to believe."

"You don't know what you're talking about, Malfoy." She tried to wrench free, but he held fast. "Let me go." When he didn't, she reached for her wand, which she'd tucked behind her ear. It was a quirk of Luna's that Hermione had adopted when wearing clothing that had no pockets.

He caught her hand. "I want you to admit it. Admit that I am right."

"I can't. I don't tell blatant lies. That's _your_ territory."

Malfoy walked forward, never loosening his hold, forcing her to walk backwards so fast, she tripped over her own feet. He didn't stop until he'd walked her straight up to the nearest wall.

Cupping her face with one hand, he said, "I could feel your heart trying to break free of your chest, it was pounding so hard. I could feel it then..." He slid his hand down until it rested over her chest. "And I can feel it now."

It was true. Her heart was racing so fiercely she could almost hear it.

"It's called adrenaline," Hermione said. "Fight or flight. Because, right now, I'd like nothing more than to rip your intestines out through your nose."

Malfoy's gaze travelled to his hand, still resting on Hermione's chest, where her heart was still drumming. Then he looked back at her face. "I can think of at least one thing you'd like more."

He was still holding her hand, preventing her from grabbing her wand. "Let me go. This isn't funny."

"I am not trying to be amusing. I want you to admit that I am right."

"What's it to you if I say it or not? Convince yourself you are. You're good at that. How else would you have been able to do the things you've done?"

He smiled. "It's a new world."

Hermione had no idea what he meant by that, and didn't think that moment was the right time to try to figure it out. "Malfoy, if you don't let me go, I swear, I will have you locked in Azkaban. And I'll have them bring the _Dementors_ back, just for you."

He lowered his head so that his lips were almost touching hers. She could feel them brushing hers when he spoke. "Say it."

"Let. Go." She wasn't sure if it sounded as threatening as she intended. Her breath was coming faster, her heart almost painful in its rhythm. The albatrosses had returned, and brought geese along for good measure. He could kiss her again, and she wasn't convinced she didn't want him to.

And kiss her he did. A soft, almost chaste, kiss on the lips. If Malfoy intended to increase the intensity, she never found out.

Turning her head away, she said, "Fine. You're right. I admit it. Now _let me go."_

He stepped back just a little then, releasing her, letting his hand fall from her chest. "There now. Easy, no?"

"You're a pig."

The insult barely registered. "I've been called worse."

"You really _would_ do anything just to make a point, wouldn't you? And then you feign shock, surprise, and outrage that I don't want to be around you."

"But you _do._ That is why you won't let yourself."

Hermione gave him a look of disgust. "You got what you came for. You won your little game. Get out."

"That is not _all_ I came for."

"You're not getting anything else. And you better pray I'm feeling more merciful in the morning, because I-"

He cut off her threat with another kiss, but it hadn't lasted more than a few seconds before Hermione pushed him back with as much strength as she could.

"What the _hell_ do you think you're doing?"

"It is what you want." He stepped toward her again, but did not make a move to touch her. "It is what _I_ want."

"Yeah, I'll just bet it is. Another game, isn't it? It won't be enough until you've had sex with me. Just to prove... Whatever it is you're trying to prove."

"It is not a game. I-"

"Spare me." She pushed past him, heading toward the front door. "I want you out of my house."

He grabbed her wrist, forcing her to turn towards him. Placing her hand over his chest, he repeated, "It is not a game."

Beneath her palm, Malfoy's heart was racing as wildly as her own. She pulled away as if it had burned her.

"It's only..." She tried to think of a reason. "Because you're nervous that this game you're playing... That it won't work, or that it will backfire."

Malfoy was getting exasperated. "I have known few people as willfully stubborn as you."

"Look in the mirror lately?"

"Must I spell it out for you? Do you require a graphic explanation? Very well. I want to-"

Hermione clamped her hands over her ears. "_Shut up._ No more."

Malfoy gently took her hands in his and lowered them. "It is true."

"Why should I believe you?"

"You feel what you feel, though you do not want to. Is it so impossible that I might be the same?"

"You feel _nothing_ outside of what's best for you. With the possible exception of Draco."

"That is _not_ true."

"I find it hard to believe that a kiss designed to teach me a lesson opened your eyes in any way. You did _not_ have some sort of epiphany. That's just not how you are."

"No," he agreed. "It was before the kiss, though I'd hardly call it an epiphany."

"Then why-"

"This is not the time for a casual conversation and exposition of the when and whys of emotions."

"But apparently it _is_ the time for arrogance and pompous language."

"I don't want to _talk_ to you. Not at this moment." He drew her closer to him, sliding his arm around her lower back. "What I _want_-"

"I understand what you want. You don't have to tell me."

He tilted her head up with one finger. "I am going to kiss you. If you don't want me to, say so now, and I will stop."

Half of Hermione's brain was telling her to tell him to stop and to kick him out. It was obviously a game. He was trying to make her a conquest, and she'd be a fool to let him.

The other half urged her, not only to let him kiss her, but to lean up and beat him to it. It couldn't be a game. Malfoy would never claim to have real feelings for a Muggleborn just for a game. And, all the behaviour she had deemed suspicious... It all made sense if he was telling the truth.

Malfoy apparently took her silence for acquiescence. Without another word, he leaned down and kissed her.

Hermione felt her muscles tense as soon as their lips met, but if Malfoy noticed, he was not deterred. His hand travelled from her jaw to cup the back of her head, pulling her into a kiss so hungry, it was as if he was trying to devour her entire being through her mouth alone.

She pushed herself to her toes, leaning up into his mouth, parting her lips for him, securing both hands around his neck as if to hold him there. This time, his tongue carried with it the taste of something sharp and acidic, and she couldn't resist pushing back with her own, licking the remnants of his drink from his mouth. A choked moan escaped, as if he had forcibly cut it short.

His free hand gripped her waist, pressing hers against his with such strength and ferocity, she thought he was trying to pull her straight into him. Hermione felt a familiar warmth pooling in her stomach, unravelling and sinking lower, turning to wetness between her legs. She hesitated, debating if she really wanted to do this, knowing that afterwards, her life could be difficult. Then, she took a step back, toward the couch, and Malfoy followed, never breaking away from her.

Moving like that was going to be slow going, Hermione knew, and it seemed Malfoy had the same idea. Instead of following her all the way to the couch, Malfoy turned her around, walking her back to the wall, just a few feet away.

Her heartbeat picked up as she realized that the farther she went, the harder it would be to stop. Placing her hands on his chest, she pushed him back just far enough to break their kiss.

"Do... Do you..." She wasn't sure what she wanted to ask.

His eyes met hers, and she tried to read them, but could not figure out what they said. He smirked. "Frightened?"

The taunt was enough to erase Hermione's hesitation. She wasn't afraid, she was nervous. She leaned forward and kissed him again, one hand gripping his shirt, the other in his hair to keep him close. Hermione used the firm surface to brace herself and slid down to the floor, Malfoy grunting, but following suit.

Malfoy wasted no time in leveraging his weight against her, trying to get her to lie down. Instead, Hermione started to lift his shirt over his head. They broke apart, panting for air, just long enough for her to do so. As soon as she tossed it aside, Malfoy leaned in, kissing her just as passionately as before.

Pressing his lips to her ear, his voice laced with impatience, he whispered, "Lie down. I want you _now."_

Hermione had no intention of making it that easy for him. Instead of lying back, she kissed her way down to his neck. Stroking his chest and abdomen, she pressed her lips to his collarbone, then dipped lower, to his nipple. Enveloping it with her mouth, she licked at it, feeling it harden under her tongue. Malfoy did not try to suppress his moan this time, stroking her hair as she continued to taste him. She bit him lightly, and she heard his breath catch, his fingers stilled in her hair before pushing her closer. She did it again, and he took her by the shoulders and pushed her back.

He did not let go as he guided her backwards, until she was lying flat on the floor. He kissed her again, his tongue exploring her mouth, tasting the whole of it in turn, as if trying to know it so well he could reconstruct it on command. She tangled her fingers in his hair and let him take his time, sliding one hand over his chest, down to the bulge in his trousers.

As soon as she touched it, his hips jerked forward into her hand. She rubbed him through the fabric, enjoying the feeling of him pushing back against her fingers. He made a sound in the back of his throat, and moved a hand to the hem of her robe. He gathered it in his hand, inch-by-inch, continuing until he had exposed her waist.

His fingers snaked beneath the waistband of her knickers, and, when he pressed two fingers to the outside of her cunt, putting pressure on her clit, Hermione gasped and arched into his touch. Malfoy broke away at last, kissing her jaw, down to her neck. Hermione tilted her head back to make it easier for him, and he took full advantage. His lips moved over her throat, kissing here, licking there, until at last he brushed them over the spot where they could both feel her pulse racing. There, he bit down, simultaneously sliding his fingers into her.

He paused once they were inside, then began to pump them in and out, his thumb pressing against her clit. In response, she pressed harder against his erection, rubbing it faster. Malfoy increased the force of his bite until Hermione was sure he was going to break her skin. When he released her, there was a rush of pain to the area, but she had no time to dwell on it because he was pushing his fingers in even deeper, flicking his thumb across the hood of her clit, and that felt _so much better_ than the negligible pain his bite had caused.

Unable to wait any longer, she began to unfasten his trousers, and he to pull her knickers down. She lifted her waist so he was able to slide them free of her. He let them fall on the floor, then straddled her. They spent a long moment watching each other, breathing hard, Hermione's heart beating so frantically, she was sure her body could not contain it for much longer.

Then, his eyes never leaving hers, Malfoy pushed his trousers and underpants down. Hermione let her gaze wander down, with no small amount of curiosity. Malfoy looked wider than she was used to, but she didn't think he would cause her any pain.

When he leaned down again, she parted her legs and lifted her hips so that she was at an easier angle for him. He adjusted her slightly before pushing in, moving slowly, filling her inch by inch. Hermione emitted a half-moan, half-sigh as she felt herself clenching around him already, trying to move her hips to encourage him to go faster, but he continued that frustratingly slow momentum until he was completely inside.

He stopped, watching her face, as if for a reaction. She raised her waist just a bit to encourage him, and he began to pump inside her, pulling out with deliberate slowness, then pushing back in at the same pace until he pressed against something that caused such a jolt of pleasure that Hermione moaned and tightened around him. There, he stopped. Instead of pulling out again, he began to rock into her slowly, _so slowly,_ never completely releasing the pressure on that spot.

Choking back the urge to ask him to fuck her faster, Hermione parted her legs more, her hands at Malfoy's back, trying to get him to move faster without using words. She tried to move her own hips faster, but it didn't help, and Malfoy showed no signs of increasing his pace. He bent his head to kiss her, and Hermione held him there, her tongue exploring his mouth, tasting every bit of it that she could, still wishing he'd go faster. Just a little faster. She knew she'd come within moments if he did.

At last, Malfoy pulled out again, and when he did, she spread her legs wider, wanting him to go in deeper. He obliged her, still moving slowly. _In. Out._ In and out, his cock brushing against every nerve inside her and making her clench around him again. She heard another half-moan, half-sigh escaping her.

Hands pressed to her waist, Malfoy slid Hermione's robe up, keeping contact with her heated skin. She arched into his hands as they travelled up her body, as his fingers hooked underneath her bra and continued upward, stopping only when he'd revealed her bare breasts. Cupping each one, he trailed his thumbs over the nipples, rubbing them taut. She grabbed his wrists, not to stop him, but for something to hold on to. She wanted to ask him to rub faster, but instead she let her hands cover his as she arched up again, pushing her breasts more deeply into his hold.

Malfoy released her, gently taking her hands in his, and interlocking their fingers. He moved their hands to her sides, and leaned down, claiming one nipple in his mouth. At first, he circled his tongue around it, flicking the top over and over again before closing his lips about it and sucking firmly, his tongue occasionally teasing her again before he set to sucking once more. She felt a tugging in her cunt, and she rolled her hips up around his cock.

The warm wetness of his mouth combined with the roughness of his tongue, and the slow, steady rhythm with which he fucked her, and Hermione felt her cunt clenching around him even more, demanding a faster pace. She was fighting the urge to make sounds each time he entered her, but it was getting more and more difficult. She craved release.

"Oh, _God,"_ she whispered, unable to fight it any longer. "Faster."

Malfoy looked up; he'd heard her. But he did not increase his pace. Instead, he smiled and lowered his head again, taking the other nipple into his mouth and lavishing it with the same attention, punctuating it with small bites that made Hermione's hips jerk, and her cunt beg for more.

"Malfoy..." She stopped. It was ridiculous to call him that when he had his cock buried inside her. "Lucius."

He looked up again. Sliding up so that he could whisper in her ear, he directed, "Wrap your legs around my waist."

His breath was hot on Hermione's face, but she didn't mind. At that moment, the only thing she cared about was the need to come. She wrapped her legs around his waist, feeling the angle of his cock change as she did so. He thrust into her faster, his own need for release urging him on.

He kissed her again, sucking her bottom lip into his mouth, biting on it softly before releasing it. Hermione pushed her tongue into his mouth. He released one of her hands, moving his fingers back to her nipple, pulling and stroking and rubbing, and, as if they were connected, her cunt tightened in response, begging for just a little more. God, she was _so close._

She stroked his hair with contrasting gentleness, tracing her index finger along his spine. He made a sound, but what it was, Hermione couldn't tell; her mouth muffled it. He thrust in again, and stilled. She could feel his cock spasm as he came, his release filling her in thick spurts.

Turning her head away, she whispered, "Don't stop."

"Never," he assured her.

He continued to move inside her, rubbing her nipple faster. It began to hurt, but she didn't ask him to stop. And, when he bowed his head and licked it once more, she came, her cunt clenching around him over and over again as each wave of pleasure overtook her.

When it passed, she had no energy left to even pull her robe down. Lucius brushed her sweaty hair from her forehead, kissed her, and pulled out, rolling to her side.

As Hermione came down, her stomach started to twist. She told herself she hadn't done what she'd done, sure it was only a brief bout of insanity that made her think otherwise. But looking around the room, and feeling Lucius' come staining her inner thighs, she knew it would be insanity to insist nothing had happened.

She pulled her robe down to cover herself, and reached for her wand in order to clean up the mess still between her legs. Her insides jolted when she didn't find it behind her ear, and another glance around told her it was lying a few feet away, where she and Lucius had been standing when he first kissed her that night. It must have fallen in the fight, and she couldn't very well get up and get it unless she wanted the embarrassment of Lucius' release trickling into her carpet.

Tucking her robe around her waist, she kept her eyes away from Lucius. She could hear him moving, most likely he was dressing himself, and she couldn't bring herself to look at him.

This had gone all wrong. It wasn't the way it was supposed to happen. And Hermione wasn't sure what she should say or do next. She wanted Lucius to leave so she could be alone and figure out what had possessed her to think what she did was okay, but she couldn't figure out how to say it.

Finally, she said, "It's late. And I... I have to be at the Ministry earlier than usual. Kingsley has another assignment for me. So I should... You know..."

Lucius said nothing, but took her chin in his hand to turn her face toward him. She closed her eyes as he kissed her, making no moves to stop or pull away. Then, he rose to his feet, checked to ensure he had his wand, and walked toward the sitting room door. There, he paused.

"Goodnight, Miss Granger." And with nothing more, he left.

As soon as she heard the front door close, Hermione retrieved her wand and cast several cleaning spells on herself. Then, she double-checked to make sure the house was secure and all her protective charms were in place. Once she was satisfied that everything was as it should be, she retreated to her bedroom, though she had no intention of sleeping any time in the near future.

She pulled her knees to her chest and rested her forehead on them, trying to decide why having sex with a man when she wasn't even sure how she felt about him had seemed like a good idea, or even a _feasible_ one. Just a week before, she had hated Lucius. Maybe 'hate' was too strong, she decided. But whatever she'd felt, it wasn't enough to excuse what she'd just done. It was too soon. It didn't make sense. And, for someone as chronically sensible as Hermione, that was a problem.

She decided she should never have allowed Lucius into her house that night. _But,_ she remembered, _he didn't give me much choice. I shouldn't have let him kiss me. That's what started all the trouble._ Still, she couldn't deny how much she enjoyed his kiss, though she still couldn't figure _why._ It didn't make sense.

That was the last coherent thought she remembered having before waking in the morning, in an awkward position with a cramp in her neck. She was exhausted, motivated only to go straight back to sleep. Instead, she dragged herself out of bed and got ready for her day as usual. It wasn't until she was about to leave for the Ministry that she spotted the bag full of laws still sitting on her floor. She opened it and looked through a few of the scrolls. Lucius hadn't gone over any of them.

_Of course not,_ she thought. _He probably came here right after he read the letter. _

Sighing, she shouldered the bag and took it with her to the Ministry.

The first hours of her day were occupied with hearings for various infractions, and meetings on determining new policies for new situations that had arisen. In the afternoon, she caught up with Frank.

"Are you busy later tonight?" she asked.

"Why?"

"Well, I've got to get this bag to Lucius, erm, Malfoy, and-"

"How'd you get that back?" he cut in. "I gave it to Malfoy last night."

"I know. I, erm, I just found it this morning. I guess he... he couldn't get in, so he just... left it." _Well done, that wasn't pathetic at all,_ she chastised herself.

"Oh, well, I'm sorry, but I can't take it for you tonight. I have other things to do. But you can't be busy again, can you?"

"Not..." She couldn't be bothered to think of another lie to excuse herself. "No, not really. I just don't want to go."

"I'm sorry," he said again. "But you're a big girl. You can handle Malfoy. If you don't think you can, you should talk to Kingsley about reassigning this project."

Hermione couldn't argue without sounding like a petulant child, so instead she said, "I guess you're right," and retreated to her office.

For a few minutes, she simply stared at the bag, wondering how to get it to Malfoy while she stayed away; she wasn't ready to see him again. Not yet. Unable to come up with anything, she told herself to worry about it later, and got back to work.

After work, she dropped by Ginny's again.

"Want to come with me to Malfoy's?" she asked.

Ginny quirked an eyebrow. "Why?"

"Well, erm, he's been sort of... I just want you there, if you're up for it. Just in case."

"He's been sort of what?" Ginny asked. "Is he still talking about his sex life? Because I'll hex his bits off for you."

Hermione found Ginny's one-answer-fits-all approach to the situation funny. "No. No, he's definitely not... talking about his sex life anymore. I just feel weird around him. Will you come? We can do something together after."

"How long will we have to be there?"

"Just as long as it takes to give this to him." She held up the bag.

Ginny shrugged. "Guess so. Why not?"

Hermione smiled, relieved. "Thanks."

~*~  
~*~*~*~  
~*~*~*~  
|| 

When they arrived at Malfoy's manor, and he opened the door in answer to Hermione's knock, he looked genuinely surprised to see Ginny standing beside her. Before he could speak, Hermione did.

"You forgot these laws at my house," Hermione said, handing him the bag. "You still have to go over them. I'd like them back within the next few days, if you don't mind." She turned to go.

"Miss Granger."

She froze, afraid he'd say something about the previous night in front of Ginny. Slowly, she turned back around.

"Might I have a word?" Lucius asked.

"I don't think that's necessary," Hermione said. "We've been doing this for a long while now. You understand the process."

"Yes. However, I still wish to speak with you. The matter cannot wait."

"What's so important?" Ginny asked.

"The only important thing that concerns you," Lucius said, "is that you learn to mind your own business."

"Talk to me like that again, and I'll curse you with painful, dripping pustules all over your body. And it'll be an improvement on what I'm seeing now."

Lucius opened his mouth to speak, but Hermione beat him to it.

"Whatever it is will have to wait. Ginny and I have other plans."

"Surely they can wait a few minutes. I would hate for your friend to know of what occurred last night."

Hermione's heart stopped. He _wouldn't._

"What happened last night?" Ginny asked Hermione.

"Ah. So you _haven't_ told her. I rather thought you hadn't."

"What _happened?"_ Ginny asked again.

"Erm... Actually, Ginny, we can spare a few minutes, can't we?"

"Not until you tell me what happened," Ginny insisted.

Lucius pretended not to have heard her. Opening the door wider, he said, "Please. Come in."

"Hermione-"

"I took your advice," Hermione whispered as Malfoy led them to the sitting room. "You know, to make him squirm. And he left right after. It's probably about that."

Ginny grinned and whispered back, "Did you really? Oh, I can't wait to hear what he has to say."

In the sitting room, Lucius said, "Miss Weasley, have a seat. Miss Granger, if you'll come with me..."

"What?" Ginny demanded. "You're not separating us."

"No, it's okay," Hermione said, eager not to risk Lucius letting anything else slip. "I'll scream if I need help." She winked.

"Hermione-"

"Really. It'll be okay." She whispered in Ginny's ear, "He doesn't want to talk about what a Muggleborn said and did to him in front of anyone. I promise I'll tell you everything."

Ginny frowned and produced her wand. "I'll wait five minutes, and then I'm coming to get you."

Lucius raised an eyebrow, but did not comment. Instead, he directed, "This way."

He swept from the room, leading Hermione down another long corridor and into a side room. The window was open, and a cold breeze rustled the curtains. He shut the door behind them, then entered the room fully, stopping in the centre, but still saying nothing.

Hermione crossed her arms for warmth. "What is it?"

"I would say I find it amusing that you thought to bring a chaperone, but it seems you didn't even intend on staying."

"And for _that_ we needed to talk in private? I think Ginny caught on to the fact that I wasn't staying."

"But she doesn't know the reason, does she?" He smiled.

"I don't think you do, either," she countered.

"I do," he said. "You are worried about being alone with me. About being unable to control yourself with me. Why else would you deem it necessary to bring along a friend?

Hermione couldn't help but laugh. _"Unable to control myself?_ Hardly. I didn't..."

"Yes?"

"I didn't want to come here at all. I tried to get Frank to do it, but he wouldn't. I... I'm trying to figure some things out, and I need to be away from you while I do it. So, if you'll excuse me..."

"Figure what things out?" he asked her retreating form.

"I'm not sure," she answered over her shoulder. "I'll let you know when I am."

She reached for the doorknob, and Lucius caught her wrist. He stepped between her and the door, taking hold of her other wrist as well, holding them both firmly, but not painfully.

"Figure _what_ things out?"

She didn't try to pull herself free. If she was able to have sex with him, she decided, she should be able to talk about it with him. "I need to think about last night."

"What about it?"

"I think we made a mistake. I don't even know for sure how I feel about you. I'm not sure when I stopped hating you, or if what I feel is just sympathy or something else. And a few butterflies and a racing heart are no reasons to have sex with someone. But I did. And it was wrong. And now I need to think about it."

"You believe that if you think about it, you'll arrive at logical conclusions?"

"I don't know. But I have to try."

"Because your world falls apart without logic." It was a statement.

"No, it... Well, yeah. I guess it does."

"Then it is safe to say your universe is soon to collapse. Logic will not explain this to you. I have tried to explain it away. I thought I would never take up with a Mu... a Muggleborn, someone who, logically, is beneath me in every way. Reason will not give you answers."

"There _has_ to be a reason," Hermione insisted, panic seizing her. "There _has_ to be a _reason_ that I don't feel such loathing for you anymore. There _has_ to be a _reason_ why days, _just days,_ after I realized that I felt whatever it is I feel, I let you have _sex_ with me. There _has_ to be a _reason_ why, even after you make ignorant, bigoted comments like that, this feeling won't go away. There _has_ to be a _reason_ for _everything_ about this, because if there isn't... If there isn't... My world falls apart."

"Build a new world. Isn't that what you've tried to do for years?"

"It isn't that simple. And I don't want to talk about it anymore."

"That's unfortunate. Because I'm not finished, yet."

"Lucius, listen to me. I _can't_ be around you. Not now. Probably not ever. My friends will never accept-"

"Your friends are not my concern. I do not care whether they accept me."

"Your friends wouldn't, either. Neither would-"

"I fell from the Dark Lord's good graces. He humiliated me in my own home, in front of the others, and yet those who were brave enough to remain still cater to my wishes. No one would dare speak a word against me. And, I suppose, influencing the laws doesn't harm my standing, either."

He was missing the point. In fact, Hermione thought, he was missing _every_ point. "That's not the only... You're cruel. You hurt people, or at least you used to. I can't be with someone who hurts people. I can't be with someone who is rude to my friends. I can't be with someone I don't trust. I can't be with someone who, just a few days ago, I didn't even _like_ very much. I can't... I have to figure out why I-"

"I have told you..." He stopped.

"What?" she asked.

He let go of her wrists. Hermione was about to walk around him and out of the door when, without warning, he wrapped his arm around her lower back, pressing her against him. She gasped, her stomach swooping.

"Tell me the _reason_ for what you just felt. Tell me the _logic_ behind it."

She put her hands on his chest, preparing to push him away, but didn't. "I didn't feel anything," she lied.

"No?" He bent his head and pressed his lips to her ear, holding her even more tightly. "Are you certain?"

Her stomach tightened, and her heart missed a beat. "I don't... I..." This time, she did push him away. "So what if I did? That doesn't-"

"Tell me the logic-"

"I don't _know_ it. That's what I'm trying to _figure out."_

"Very well. Tell me the logic behind your feelings for the Weasley boy."

"I... I don't know. We've spent most of our lives together. And... it never... I mean, it just..."

"There _is no logic_ for it. I know. I have tried to find it. The effort is futile."

"Then I'll wait it out," Hermione concluded. "Eventually, it has to go away. And, until then, I can't be around you."

"I thought the Gryffindors faced their fears. Perhaps you were-"

"I am _not_ afraid. I am... I just... It's not a good idea because we... There are so many reasons-"

"Excuses for you to hide behind."

"Why are you doing this?" Hermione demanded, accusation punctuating every syllable. "I'm a Muggleborn. You should be thrilled at the idea of my walking away from this. In fact, _you_ should be running away yourself."

"You're right. And I don't understand it. I _despise_ it. And I've done precisely what you are doing now. There's no use for it. And I am not one to run away because I don't understand the facts."

"I'm not running away. I'm accepting what I feel. About the situation, I mean. Not about you."

"Yes, I know. You're running from that, too frightened to-"

"Stop saying that. I am _not afraid._ I... It's... If... Just stop saying-"

"If you're determined to walk away, I will not stand in your way. It changes nothing. You will return."

"No, I won't."

"You will." He closed the distance between them. Placing one hand at her waist, and the other at the back of her neck, he whispered in her ear, "Because you're what I want. And I _always_ get what I want."

Hermione's heartbeat picked up. She pulled away and, looking him in the eye, said, "Then you better start wanting someone else."

When she went for the door this time, Lucius did not try to stop her. She hurried to join Ginny, afraid Lucius might try to catch up with her.

"What happened?" Ginny asked, her eyes twinkling with excitement.

"I don't want to talk about it. Let's get out of here."

"But you promised to tell me-"

"Ginny. _Please."_

Evidently noting the distress in her friend's voice, Ginny demanded, "What did he do to you?" She marched toward the corridor from which Hermione had just come. "I'll-"

"No. Don't. He didn't do anything. I'm just very tired. I didn't sleep well. Come on. I want out of this house."

Ginny eyed Hermione skeptically. "If he hurt you, you tell me. I'll go find him right now and-"

"He didn't. Really."

"Don't protect him."

"Why would I do that? Everything is okay. Now _let's go."_

"Fine." Ginny fell into step beside Hermione. "But as soon as we're out of here, you're going to explain to me why you've been acting so bloody strange."

Hermione didn't argue. When they were clear of Malfoy's grounds, she turned and looked back at the manor, staring at it before Apparating away.

~*~  
~*~*~*~  
~*~*~*~  
|| 

"What happened between you and Malfoy?"

"Are you _ever_ going to stop asking that?"

"Just as soon as you give me an answer I can believe."

"I've already _told_ you. He told me that he knew what I was trying to do, and that I shouldn't try to manipulate him because I'm no good at it. And really, he's right."

"But I still don't-"

"Ginny, please. I'm sick of my life being all about Lucius sodding Malfoy. For just one night, I don't want to think about him, okay?"

"Okay. But just for this one night. Because I'm not done asking."

Hermione sighed, accepting the slight reprieve. At least, for one night, she could push Lucius from her mind.

Except she couldn't.

That night, and the ones that followed, her mind continued to stray to Lucius, fixating on everything from the insignificant - the scent of his skin, the feel of his hand pressed against her lower back - to the very significant: his body moving against hers, what she'd felt when they'd had sex. It was driving her to distraction, and she delved even deeper into work, and made more time to spend with her friends so that her thoughts had no time to settle on Lucius Malfoy.

The following days found Hermione avoiding Lucius' home, and hoping he didn't turn up at hers. She made excuses to Kingsley about why she hadn't got the most recent set of revisions back, and tried to delay the inevitable. But when Kingsley insisted she speak to Lucius, and Hermione had run out of reasons why she couldn't, she conceded defeat and went.

She knocked on his door and waited, her heart in her throat. He didn't seem surprised when he opened the door and showed her inside.

"I just came to get the laws. I'm not staying."

"You have no desire to ensure any objections I made are fair?"

"Oh. Right." She'd forgotten about that part. "Fine. Let's go through them. But we have to be quick about it."

When he gave her the scrolls, she sat on the arm of a chair across from him, staring at the parchment and trying to ignore him.

But it wasn't working.

She decided she had to say _something._ Setting the scroll down, she faced him.

"Did you find an error?" he asked, and Hermione realized he'd been watching her the whole time.

"You almost killed Ginny once. Do you remember? You gave her that diary, and it almost got her killed." Her tone was calm and matter-of-fact, not accusatory.

Lucius sighed. "Miss-"

"And you almost killed me, too. In the Department of Mysteries. You and your lot almost killed me _and_ my friends. You told them they could, as long as they didn't hurt Harry."

"Miss-"

"You let Bellatrix torture me. You were so hungry for information, so damned determined to get back in Voldemort's good graces. You only left him at the end. And you almost let Bellatrix kill me, just to gain the approval of a murderous madman."

"Miss-"

"And the only reason I can think of why you've taken a non-lethal interest in me is that you're so lonely you're not thinking straight. You-"

_"Hermione."_

The use of her first name startled her into silence.

"I am not going to apologize for my past," Lucius said. "So if that's what you are searching for, I suggest you stop now."

"I'm not. I just want you to understand why I can't... You've done too much to me and my friends. And you did it because you _wanted_ to. No one forced your hand, like Voldemort did to Draco. You believed all that stuff. You believed in eradicating everyone of my blood. How can I trust someone like that?"

"It may have escaped your notice, Hermione, but my priorities have changed."

"But for how long? Until Draco comes back? Until you get bored of being tolerant?"

"I don't recall ever claiming tolerance."

"Not exactly the confidence-inspiring response I was looking for."

"I do what is best for me and my son. When the Dark Lord was gaining power, it was best to follow him. This would be his world now, were it not for the Potters and Godric's Hollow. He would have won many, many years ago. Dumbledore and his army was outnumbered and dying one by one. Sometimes more than that."

"That's exactly wh-"

"When the Dark Lord returned, it was best to follow him once again. I had no desire to meet the same end as Karkaroff."

"That's not-"

"The Dark Lord is dead now. Permanently, this time. It is not in my best interest to continue to support a corpse. You and your Minister will not allow for another Dark Lord, and there is no sense in pretending otherwise. This is a new world. And, nightmarish as I find it, I am forced to live in it. It is best for me, and for Draco, to adapt. We have before, when the Dark Lord first fell, and we will again."

"So you'll behave yourself only because the law is forcing you to?"

"Most wizards behave solely for that reason. There were times, as we have been working out the particulars on these laws, that you wanted to throttle me. It was plain. And yet, you didn't. Why? Because the law provides severe penalties for that act. If you could be free from punishment, I've no doubt you would have killed me. Or, at the very least, tried."

"No. I didn't do it because it's _wrong._ You don't understand that there's a line, and decent people don't cross it. You're talking like people don't have a moral compass, and that's just not true. You may ignore it, but I don't. Neither do my friends."

"Your friends suffer from the need to constantly be the centre of attention."

"That's not true. We don't try to-"

"They want to be looked at as heroes. And-"

"That's wrong, as well. We don't do what we do for attention or praise. We do it because it's right, not because the law tells us to. That's why Harry and Ron joined the Aurors. That's why I did so much with S.P.E.W., and I'm now trying to make our world fair for everyone. Because they're the _right things to do."_

"Who is to say what is right and what is wrong?"

"Well, I'm no expert, but I think joining a mass-murderer bent on the eradication of an entire group people for no other reason than he doesn't like their parents falls squarely in the 'wrong' category."

"You are looking at it from the wrong perspective. It was not the eradication of Muggleborns that we sought. It was the purity of the wizarding race. However, that ended two years ago. And, as I've said, my son and I will adapt."

"I'm not sure if that's good enough. That's not really change. I've only known of two people who really turned away from Voldemort."

"And both did it out of self interest, did they not? No, I believe one did it out of guilt. And you consider that real change. I see no significant difference to the situation at hand."

He wasn't wrong; both Regulus and Professor Snape had left, not because they had seen some mythical light, but because of their own specific motives. And both _their_ changes were real, so why shouldn't Lucius' be? If nothing else, Hermione did believe he'd change to bring his son home.

"Would you be nice to my friends?"

"No."

"Would you at least keep yourself from saying rude things outright?"

"No."

"But-"

"Let me make this plain. I am not, nor, I suspect, will I ever be, a man who will merge seamlessly with those you associate with. And I have no inclination to pretend otherwise. I will never be a man who finds those people charming, or interesting, or palatable. If you suspect you can change that in me, you will be sorely disappointed."

She sighed. She should have known as much. "Would you at least keep yourself from hexing them if they make you angry?"

Lucius considered her. "I suppose I will have to. Though, I don't plan to spend time with them."

"I expect they'll feel the same way." She paused. Silently, she got up and moved to sit on the arm of his chair. "Okay. I guess we can... I..." Unable to properly articulate what she wanted to say, she placed a hand on his shoulder and kissed him.

When they pulled apart, Lucius smirked. "As I said, I always get what I want."

"Say that again, and I might change my mind," Hermione warned. She stretched out the parchment in front of him. "We have to finish this. We'll worry about the other stuff later."

They completed their work, and Hermione left, determined to get the scrolls to Kingsley early the next morning. Lucius let her go without much protest, and Hermione was grateful for it. Already, she was starting to think she'd made an insane choice agreeing to give it a go with someone who said quite plainly that he had not yet learned tolerance, and wouldn't be polite to anyone besides her. She wasn't sure how, or even _if,_ she was going to tell her friends, or how she was going to make a relationship with Lucius work.

Shaking her head, she decided she was being ridiculous. She'd made her choice, and she had to have chosen it for a reason.

~*~  
~*~*~*~  
~*~*~*~  
|| 

The following day, the first thing Hermione did when she arrived at the Ministry was go to Kingsley's office.

"I have the revisions," she told him, handing over the scrolls.

"Just in time," he said as he unrolled one and began to look through it. "The first few laws you and Lucius created go into effect today."

"Just the first ones?"

"There are a few more that are approved, but I've decided to stagger them by a few days. I don't want to overwhelm anyone, and it'll make it less likely anyone will miss one of them. Others are still at the consultation phase. Do you still have more you are creating with Lucius?"

"Yes. We have quite a few more proposals to write, two more laws that are ready to be drafted, and a list of what else we have to do." She paused. "Sir? I have a favour to ask."

Tilting his head to one side, Kingsley asked, "Oh?"

"Yes. I was wondering... Would it be possible to end the Preemptive Investigations on Lucius' house?"

"Ah." Kingsley smiled. "So Lucius has finally named his price."

"What? Oh, _no._ This was my idea. Lucius didn't ask me to ask you. I was hoping you'd want to end them."

His face settling into a frown, Kingsley asked, "Why would I do that?"

"I've spent a lot of time at his manor, and I haven't noticed anything that indicates he's thinking of starting to collect Dark artifacts, or do anything with Dark Magic, really. And he helped us, so shouldn't we reward him a little? _And,_" she pressed before Kingsley could interrupt, "I was thinking about what you said about the Muggles and Germany. If we keep searching his house, especially after he gave up so much time to help us, and we keep treating him like we just _know_ he's going to do something wrong, that might make him just as upset as if we'd changed all these laws without considering how the other side feels. He's got loads of influence again. That's why I picked him. If he decides he's feeling up to a rebellion, he could do it, couldn't he? So maybe we ought to give him this, as a way of thanking him."

Kingsley considered her, head still tilted to one side. Then, at last, he said, "I'll think about it."

Hermione smiled; that was better than an outright rejection. "Thank you. I ought to get back to work, now. I'm starting to fall behind, and there's so much to do."

Kingsley's expression didn't change as he dismissed her. He watched her exit as if he knew there was something she wasn't telling him.

Hermione spent the next days as normally as possible; working and spending the early evenings with her friends. She continued her nightly meetings with Lucius, though they were getting less work done; They were lucky if they made it halfway through a draft before one of them decided the other's body was more interesting. Though they had to work later in order to prevent falling behind, Hermione didn't mind. The nights spent with Lucius were worth the lost sleep.

So far, they seemed to be getting on quite well; Lucius was making a real effort to keep his prejudiced comments to himself. Hermione expected he still felt them; he'd grown up with those beliefs, and such things were not easy to brush off simply because one had taken an interest in a Muggleborn, but he was trying.

She reminded herself that Professor Snape didn't make a complete change right away, that, in some ways, he hadn't grown up at all, and that it was going to take some time. But if Professor Snape could do it, there was no reason Lucius couldn't. She kept reminding herself that it would just take time.

Still, Lucius hadn't made what Hermione would have called 'drastic' changes in any of his other behaviours. He was still an arrogant bastard, still made cutting remarks, though they were less directed at her and more at everyone else in her life. It was as if he was willing to accept his feelings for a Muggleborn and make just enough changes to keep her around, but was unwilling to alter anything else concerning his attitude or his ideals. But one night, as Hermione thought about it, she realized that just those slight concessions on Lucius' part _were_ drastic; he'd never have so much as considered them before.

The days turned into weeks, and Hermione still wasn't sure what to tell her friends, who had grown curious of her occasional disappearances. She made up excuses she hoped they believed, and continued trying to figure out what to do. Finally, she decided she'd talk to Lucius about it. She had a feeling he'd tell her he didn't give a Hippogriff's backside what or if she told her friends, but it was worth bringing up the subject anyway.

The night she planned to ask, she arrived at Lucius' manor and would have knocked, but door opened for her of its own volition. Curious, she entered, the lock sliding into place on its own. She pulled her wand out as she walked through the hall toward the sitting room. It was empty, but she knew Lucius had to be around or he wouldn't have charmed the door to open like that. Knowing her way around the manor, she went through the rooms trying to find him, and discovered him lying in bed, coughing up more phlegm than she'd previously thought it was possible to have in a single body.

Hovering near the door, she asked, "Are you okay?"

He gave her a look. "Cleary not."

She approached the bed. "What happened?"

Just as Lucius was about to answer, he sneezed, and a fire erupted on the carpet near Hermione's feet. Hermione immediately drew her wand, dousing the flame.

If Lucius noticed what happened, he didn't care. "Yaxley's ankle-biting prat consorted with a sickness-carrying-"A fit of coughing interrupted his explanation.

Hermione pressed her hand to his forehead. He was hot to the touch.

"Can you move?" she asked.

"No. It hurts to so much as attempt movement. I can't breathe either, I'll have you know." He groaned. "My spells haven't worked properly all day." He sneezed twice in a row, but nothing caught fire. "A foul illness is polluting my body, and-"

Hermione's laugh cut him off. He looked at her as if she had the most twisted sense of humour he'd ever encountered. She stopped laughing, but continued smiling. "I'm sorry, but it's funny to see you like this. You work so hard at seeming one way, and then it all falls apart when you're not in control any longer. Just like Draco." She dropped her hand. "Anyway, you've got the flu."

He frowned. "I haven't flown anywhere. I loathe broomsticks."

"Not 'flew.' _Flu."_ Realizing it didn't sound any different, she was about to clarify, but Lucius spoke first.

Giving her a look of mingled annoyance and impatience, he said, "I don't care what it is. I want it out of me."

Hermione found it amusing to see Lucius so grumpy, and not just arrogant or rude. She also felt sympathetic; he was clearly miserable. "I'll go make you a potion."

"I don't require a potion," Lucius said.

"Yeah, you do. I'll be right back." She didn't suppress her chuckle as she left the room, heading downstairs toward the kitchen.

Being unfamiliar with where Lucius kept specific ingredients, it took her longer than she expected to brew the potion correctly. Satisfied she'd done it right, she returned to Lucius with a mug of the concoction in her hand.

In her absence, Lucius had fallen asleep. She set the mug down on the table near his bed. She considered leaving him alone, then decided that she would stay in case his magic misfired again, or he woke up. If the potion cooled too much it would congeal, and he would need a fresh mug.

Pressing her hand to his head once again, she checked for a fever. He was still burning. Taking a washcloth from the bathroom, she wet it with cold water, wrung out the excess, and returned, placing the cool cloth on his forehead. Then, she settled into a chair, curled up, and waited.

The next thing she was aware of was the faint light of dawn creeping over the open sill. She looked at her surroundings, first in confusion, and then in panic. She hadn't intended to stay the entire night. She climbed out of the chair, trying to rub a crick out of her neck and looking for a clock to tell her how much time she had before she needed to be at work. The potion she had brewed was still in the mug, congealed into a thick, gelatinous mass. If Lucius had woken during the night, he either hadn't spotted or hadn't cared to try the cure.

Her foot caught on the edge of the table, sending half its contents toppling to the ground in a clatter. Lucius jolted awake, going for his wand. Because of his illness, his reflexes were slow enough for Hermione to catch his wrist first.

"Sorry," she whispered, as though he weren't wide awake. "It's just me. I didn't mean to wake you."

He lifted his head inches off his pillow and squinted, as if to get a better look at her. "Hermione?" His voice was hoarse. As his head fell back on his pillow, he asked, "You're still here?"

"Yes. I fell asleep. But I'm going now. I've got to get to the Ministry."

Lucius turned his head toward the window. The sun was still inching above the horizon and hadn't yet cast its full glow into his upper-floor room. "It's still early."

"I know. But I've got to get home and make sure I have everything I need. Where's a clock? I don't even know what time it is."

"There's one in the main hall." He coughed, a series of dry hacks that sounded painful.

Hermione watched him sympathetically. "I'll come back tonight, okay? In the meantime, just stay in bed. Sleep, if you can. It'll help."

Downstairs, Hermione glanced at the clock. It was far earlier than she had previously thought. Deciding she had enough time, she returned to the kitchen and brewed more of the potion for Malfoy.

When she returned to his room, he looked more than a little surprised to find her still there. "I thought you'd gone."

"I made you this." She sat beside him and held out the cup.

"What is it?"

"Drink it and see."

Lucius sniffed the mug as if he suspected poison. Then, he took a mouthful.

"All of it," Hermione said.

It was clear from his expression that Lucius did not appreciate being given orders in his own home. Still, he drank what was left in the mug.

"Good," Hermione said. "You'll feel better soon. But I've got to go. I'll be back tonight." She kissed his forehead and left.

~*~  
~*~*~*~  
~*~*~*~  
|| 

That day was one of the most hectic Hermione had ever seen. It started with several back-to-back hearings. After they ended, Hermione thought she'd be able to get some of her other work done, but someone from her department had spotted Fenrir Greyback in an abandoned, largely industrial area in the north, and he was putting up quite the chase. She, Frank, and several others Apparated to the location in order to help with the pursuit.

Because of the many buildings and alleyways, and the sheer size of the area, it took longer than anyone would have liked to corner Greyback. They caught glimpses of him, but by the time a spell was spoken, he had darted out of sight again. He took to hiding inside the buildings, giving him even more opportunities to evade them as they searched the rooms and cupboards for him.

Hermione couldn't figure why Greyback didn't just Apparate away, but decided not to question it too closely. Whatever was stopping him worked in her favour.

The weather, however, did not.

While they were chasing him, it began to rain. At first, it was a few drops, barely a sprinkle. Then, with no further warning, the water came down in buckets, thunder clashing above them and lightening zig zagging between clouds.

Still, they did not give up the chase.

Though Hermione's muscles were getting stiff and she could hardly see, she continued to follow the brief glimpses of movement, the shouts, and the flashes of light, hoping that Greyback didn't come out of nowhere and bite her.

At last, luck turned their way. As she and Frank rounded a corner, they found Greyback at a dead end. He was on all fours, snarling and growling like the wolf he was so determined to be. He looked between them both, then lunged at Hermione. He was in mid-air when a well-placed _Petrificus Totalis_ from Frank sent Greyback crashing to the ground.

"Thanks," Hermione said.

"Don't mention it."

After Frank was sure his entire team was present and not seriously hurt, he asked three to help him with Greyback, and told the others to go home. Hermione wanted to go along, but he assured her it would be fine, and advised them to get inside before they all fell ill. Unable to argue with his point that if half the department was out sick, there wouldn't be enough magical law enforcement to go around, Hermione left him and Apparated home.

She was about to go inside and get into clean, dry clothes when she realized that if she got comfortable inside, she probably would go to sleep instead of visiting Lucius. Focusing on his manor, she Apparated there instead.

The door opened automatically for her once again. Wondering if it was a sign that her potion hadn't worked, she entered with the intention of checking on Lucius in his bedroom. Climbing the stairs was uncomfortable; her muscles were stiff and determined to ignore her wishes. She didn't think there was a part of her body that wasn't cold and aching. After she checked on Lucius, she thought, she'd go straight home, have a hot bath, and sleep the weekend away.

Lucius wasn't in his room, but she ran into him on her way back downstairs. He looked as healthy as ever.

Taking in her appearance, he started to say something, but cut himself off, instead saying, "You need a bath."

Hermione looked down at herself. She was wet and covered in mud. "Yeah. I wanted to be sure you felt okay. Speaking of which, isn't there something you want to say to me?"

"Such as?" He placed his hand on the small of back and guided her down the corridor.

"I don't know. How about, 'Thank you, Hermione, for making that potion and saving me from days and days of misery, during which I could have burned down my home'?"

"I thought it went without saying."

Hermione looked at him. "I want you to say it."

He stopped at a door and opened it for her. Then, he turned to her and said, "Thank you. I appreciate what you did."

She smiled. "That's all I wanted. And you're welcome." She walked past him into the bathroom.

The door clicked shut behind her.

Lucius' tub was larger than it was necessary for any tub to be. At least three of her own would fit inside his one. If it had been a bit bigger, she might have entertained the idea of swimming in it, as she had done one more than one occasion in the prefects' bath at Hogwarts.

Hermione had been soaking in the hot bath for only a few minutes when the bathroom door opened. She looked around to see Lucius entering, still fully dressed.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

He sat on the edge of the tub. "Sit up."

"Why are you-"

"Sit up, and you will find out."

Hermione sat up. Taking her by the shoulders, Lucius guided her so that she was turned away from him. Before she could ask him what he was doing, he began to massage her shoulders and upper back. At first, it hurt, but after a few moments, she could feel the tension and soreness starting to recede.

For minutes, they were silent. Then, Lucius asked, "What is that?"

She turned her head to see him. "What is what?"

He grabbed her arm. "This," he said, indicating a rather large bruise above her elbow.

"Oh. I must have got it in the chase today." She thought. "Yeah, when Greyback knocked me down."

Lucius stared at her. "What are you on about?"

"We arrested Greyback today. He didn't make it easy, though. Had us running all over the place to catch him. Even after the storm hit. He's one determined bastard."

"Running? Why didn't he Apparate?"

"I wondered the same thing. I don't know, but it meant we caught him, so I'm not too fussed about it." She yawned, turning her head back around. "I _am_ tired, though." With no prompting, another thought entered her mind. "Your door opens by itself now."

"I know. Otherwise I would have asked how you continue to enter my home without assistance."

"Well, _why_ does it do that now?"

He began to rub her back again. "The Dark Lord had it enchanted that way when he lived here. The spell died with him, but I augmented the spell on the gate so that it won't allow just anyone through. Anyone who makes it as far as the door is someone I would invite in if I were to answer it myself." He paused. "Besides, I am not a servant. I grew tired of answering the door as one."

Hermione didn't respond directly to that. She recognized what Malfoy had done, and what it meant, but she knew he wouldn't appreciate her pointing it out. Instead, she said, "The laws are going into effect now. A few every week."

"Yes."

"Have you told Draco?"

His hands tightened for the briefest of moments. Then, "He is aware, yes." He pressed his lips to her neck, then released her, sliding to the floor beside the tub. Cupping her neck with his hand, he pulled her into a kiss, his free hand trailing down her stomach, to her thighs.

He slid his hand between her legs and she parted them for him. His fingers went to her clit, pinching and stroking it gently but firmly until she felt that warmth rushing to her cunt again. She moaned and opened her legs wider.

He dipped his head, licking down the hollow of her throat, and then lower, to her breast. He captured her nipple in his mouth, tonguing it in swipes and flicks as he continued to fondle her clit.

Hermione moved her hand down to join his, trying to push her fingers inside herself, but Lucius grabbed her hand. She groaned at the release of pressure on her clit.

"Relax."

"I-"

He kissed her again, cutting off whatever protest she might have tried to make. She let her hand go limp in his. His fingers trailed light, random patterns along her upper inner thigh before he began to stroke her clit again. This time, he didn't bother with gentleness, holding it tightly between his thumb and forefinger and pinching and stroking faster and faster, until Hermione tightened her legs, trapping his hand between them, rolling her hips, her head thrown back, his mouth over hers, muffling the sounds she made as she grew closer and closer to climaxing.

And she came in such a burst it was almost painful. She didn't let Lucius' hand go until she had completely ridden out her orgasm.

"Stand up," she panted, using the edge of the tub as leverage to get to her knees.

He stood by the tub's rim, and Hermione reached out and undid his trousers, pushing them down just far enough to take hold of his already half-hard cock.

She allowed her fingers to trace lightly over the blue veins, watching it twitch under her touch. Then, forming a loose fist, she stroked him, his cock lengthening and thickening in her hand. Moistening her lips, she leaned forward, licking the tip and trailing her tongue from the base to the tip in long, slow passes. He stiffened under her tongue, and she smiled her satisfaction.

He knelt on the edge of the tub, leaning forward with his arms against the wall behind her to balance himself. It meant she head to lean back slightly, but she didn't care. She continued to lick him until he began to leak pre-come. She tasted it, and he moaned.

Shifting to find a better angle, she transferred her attentions to his balls, licking one, taking it into her mouth. She rolled her tongue over it, then began sucking it gently as it hardened. Pulling away, she wasted no time in repeating her actions on the other, feeling it draw up closer to his body as she mouthed it. He moaned, and she felt a combination of power and lust as his hips jerked forward.

Returning to her previous position, she opened her mouth and took in his whole cock at once. It pressed at the back of her throat, triggering her gag reflex. Though a choked sound escaped her, she relaxed the muscles until she was able to suck again. She did so in earnest, sucking as vigorously as she could, keeping her tongue pressed to the underside of his cock.

His hips pushed forward, forcing his cock in deeper. One of his hands came down to hold her head as he slipped in and out, and she sucked and sucked until he came in hot, thick spurts. She continued to suck until she milked the last of his orgasm from him.

As soon as she let him go, she pressed her face into the now-warm water of the tub, rinsing away the bitter taste of his come. He climbed off the edge of the tub and she took hold of his shirt, pulling him back down to kiss her, hoping she'd got rid of the bitterness enough that he wasn't revolted.

When she let him go, he caught hold of her wrist. Kissing her palm, he said, "Dry off. We can do so much more in the bed."

Hermione grinned as she climbed out of the tub.

~*~  
~*~*~*~  
~*~*~*~  
|| 

The following morning, Hermione was at home when she heard the knock that signalled one of her friends had arrived. She'd barely opened the door when Ginny stormed in, Harry on her heels.

"Where have you _been?"_ Ginny demanded.

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked.

"Oh, don't feed me that innocent routine," Ginny said. "You've been gone for two days straight."

"No, I haven't. I've been-"

"I came by two nights ago. You didn't answer. I thought, 'Okay, she must be asleep.' But then, yesterday, I heard about Greyback going insane and giving you all a run."

"Greyback's insane?" Hermione repeated. "Well, that explains it."

"Does it explain where you've been for the last two days?" Ginny countered.

"I was at work yesterday, and-"

"Not all night, you weren't," Ginny insisted. "Tell her, Harry."

Harry looked surprised at being dragged into this, but said, "I talked to Frank after he locked Greyback up. He said you'd gone home. So me and Ginny-"

"We came over here," Ginny interrupted. "To see if you were okay. But you weren't here. We thought something might have happened to you. That maybe you weren't okay at all, like Frank said."

"Why didn't you send your Patronus?"

"Send it _where?"_ Ginny stomped her foot.

"Here. I was home. I just went to sleep early. I was tired." She hoped she sounded believable.

"Like hell you were. Wait. What time did you get home?"

She shrugged. "I dunno. Right after we caught Greyback. Eight or so?"

"And what time did you go to sleep?" Ginny pressed.

"Erm... About ten, I guess."

"Ha!" Ginny said triumphantly. "We came at half eight and stayed until nine waiting for you. We heard bugger all from inside, and you never answered. _You weren't here."_

"Why would you lie about something like that?" Harry asked.

Hermione looked between them. This was it. She was caught, and she might as well admit to it now. "Erm... Sit down. I think you'll need to."

Both gave her curious looks, but went into the sitting room and took seats.

Hermione stood in front of them, like a professor giving a lesson. She took a deep breath and said, "I was with Lucius."

"You were working on laws all night?" Ginny asked.

Hermione hesitated. "No. We were... He and I..." She paused, then said, "Lucius and I are in a relationship."

Ginny's face clouded over. "Please tell me you mean working relationship."

"That isn't what I mean."

"You..." Ginny rose to her feet, anger and disgust on her face. "You're _involved_ with Lucius Malfoy? You can't be... You... It's... Hermione! That's foul! How could you...Why would... I can't... I think I might be... What about Ron? He'll be back soon."

"I'm not with Ron. And I can't just wait around for him to grow up."

"But... _Lucius?_ Hermione, that's... He tried to _kill_ us, remember? And he-"

"I know. I've talked about that with him. He's not the same as he was before."

"That's what he wants you to think. He _hates_ us. And you're... You're... Are you insane? You're insane." She turned to Harry. "She's _insane._ Do you _hear her?"_ Turning back to Hermione, she said, "Now I see why you didn't want me to hex his bits off." She didn't pause long enough for Hermione to object. "He's a _monster._ And you-"

"He _was_ a monster. He-"

"Oh, _God,"_ Ginny said, as if she'd just realized something. "He's married. If-"

"He and Narcissa don't love each other. They agreed to-"

"But... But..." She smiled. "Don't you see? He's not going to tell the world he's being unfaithful. That means this won't last. You have to call it off." She looked both relieved and pleased with herself, as if she'd solved a complicated problem and saved Hermione's life.

"He's not worried about that. He told me so. Listen-"

"No. _You_ listen. What you're doing... It's madness. How could you even _think_ about being with that bastard? I never thought you would turn against us like-"

"Turn against you?" Hermione cut in, hurt. "How could you say that? I haven't-"

"He's the enemy," Ginny said. "And you're having sex with him."

_"Sex?"_ Harry cut in. "She didn't say that."

"Oh, Harry, open your eyes. What do you think they're doing all night? Playing wizard chess?"

Harry looked from Ginny to Hermione, as if hoping Hermione would object. When she didn't, he started, "How..." Hermione thought he was going to ask how she could do such a thing. Instead, he asked, "How long have you been... How long has this been going on?"

"A while." She turned to Ginny. "Remember that night I asked you to go with me to his manor? The night before was the first time."

"That long?" Ginny looked as if she couldn't decided whether to be angry or repulsed. "And you didn't tell us?"

"Well, I thought you'd overreact. So silly of me."

"I'm not overreacting. There's only one way to react. And this is it." She turned to Harry. "Help me, would you?"

Harry looked as if he was about to be sick. "It doesn't sound safe to me," he said. "But-"

_"Exactly,"_ Ginny agreed. "And if you think for one moment we're going to tell you it's okay to-"

"I don't need your permission," Hermione cut in. "This is my choice about my private life. It's not open to debate."

Hands on her hips, Ginny demanded, "So that's it, then? You're fucking a Death Eater. And-"

"He isn't a Death Eater. Not anymore."

"Whatever. You're fucking someone who followed Voldemort, and it's revolting." Ginny appeared to be searching for something else to say. "Is there more we should know? You aren't pregnant with his spawn, are you?"

_"No._ Of course not. I'm far too young to consider that. And anyway-"

"Good," Ginny said, smiling. "Sensible Hermione is back. Now, if she could just have a talk with the lunatic that's taken over your body-"

"I'm _not_ crazy," Hermione said. "Look. I don't expect you'd understand. You haven't seen him changing."

"He's _manipulating_ you. Don't you see that? He's using you to raise his status again. Or-"

"No, he's _not_. If he was, why wouldn't everyone know about us? And he's never asked me for anything that would-"

"Fine. Then he... He… He's just… He never… If you don't…" She began to pace. "Let's say you and Malfoy keep up this unnatural charade. Where's it going to go? You can't ever get married, or-"

_"Married?_ No one is talking about marriage. We've just started this relationship."

Ginny glared at her. "Stop calling it that. Call it what it is. An unnatural charade."

"We're just starting out," Hermione insisted. "There's no way to tell what's going to happen. And I'm not going to try to reason it all out. If there's anything all this has taught me it's that logic won't help me figure everything out. Because, logically, this shouldn't have happened. But it did."

"You don't get it," Ginny pressed. "You can't have a future with Malfoy. You just... _can't._ He's a horrible, evil, repulsive-"

"He's _changing._ He-"

"People like that _don't change."_

"Professor Snape did." Knowing she wasn't going to get anywhere with Ginny on her own, Hermione turned to Harry, hoping that even if he felt the same as Ginny, she might be able to get through to him. "Remember? You used to hate Snape so much, and you don't anymore. You even respect him. He changed. Why can't Lucius?"

Harry looked even more ill than before. "But... You honestly think he can?"

"He can. He _is._ I've seen it. Please believe me."

"Are you sure?" Harry pressed. "It could be a ploy to-"

"It isn't. I'm sure. And he makes me happy."

"That's disgusting," Ginny said.

"You don't understand," Hermione countered. "He-"

"You're right. I _don't._ How can you-"

"Ginny," Harry cut in, getting to his feet. "Leave her alone. She's an adult. She can make her own choices."

Hermione smiled her gratitude.

_"What?"_ Ginny demanded, rounding on him. "How can you say that? Why would you think this is okay?"

"I didn't say that. But we shouldn't be involved in other people's love lives. Hermione, do what you want. I'll talk to Ron when he gets back."

"You'll think he'll be okay with the decision?" Hermione asked.

"No. But I'll try anyway."

"I can't believe this. Have you both been bewitched? This is _insanity._ Lucius-"

"It's Hermione's life."

"But-"

"I know."

"It's Lucius Malfoy. He-"

"But _I'm_ your best friend," Hermione said. "If he makes me happy, can't you be happy for me?"

"Not when Malfoy is involved."

"So you'd end our friendship over this?"

"That depends. If I said I would, would you call this off?"

"Ginny," Harry said. "If she's happy with..." He grimaced. "With Malfoy... This is Hermione, we're talking about. If she's doing this, she's got a good reason."

"What is it?" Ginny demanded. "Because I don't see it."

"Neither do I. But she's right about Snape. She could be right about Lucius."

"This could be dangerous," Ginny said. "A man like Malfoy-"

"Hermione can take care of herself. And she has us in case Malfoy tries anything. Or, she'll have me, at least." He gave her a look.

Ginny fell quiet. Then, with a look of revulsion twisting her features, said, "Fine. But I never want to be around him. You can't ever invite him along if I'm going to be there. And he's not allowed in my home. Or at Grimmauld Place."

"I can live with that," Hermione agreed.

"Oh. And you can never, ever mention 'Lucius' in the same sentence as or an adjacent sentence to 'sex' or 'intimacy' or anything that relates to those words. Ever."

Deciding those were acceptable terms, Hermione said, "Okay. I won't."

Despite their words, though, she could see the disapproval in her friends' eyes, how they fairly screamed, "You're doing the wrong thing!"

In an attempt to make them more accepting, she said, "And, if it doesn't work out with Lucius, I won't go back a second time. I'll move on."

"Good," Ginny said. "Let's hope it doesn't work out."

~*~  
~*~*~*~  
~*~*~*~  
|| 

The next night, Hermione received an owl from Kingsley. She read it, then hurried to grab her cloak and Apparate to Lucius'. She hurried up the walk and into the house, calling for him and hoping that, wherever he was, he'd hear her.

He entered the sitting room from a long corridor, looking around in concern. "What happened? Why are you shrieking like-"

"I've just had an owl from Kingsley. He's agreed to end the Preemptive Investigations on you, provided I still check in from time to time. Isn't that great?"

Lucius looked at first as if he didn't understand. Then, he grinned. Instead of answering her, he rushed forward and kissed her, and that was answer enough for Hermione.

When he pulled away, he hooked his arms around the small of her back and said, "I received a letter from Draco today."

"Yeah?" She clasped her arms around his neck. "Is he still refusing to come back because of your surname?"

"On the contrary. It appears he's decided our name is powerful in England and soiled in Spain."

"Of course he has," Hermione said, unable to stop the irritation in her tone. "Now that you're making the laws and... Hang on. Why is it soiled in Spain? Narcissa said-"

"Narcissa has taken up with a Spaniard whom Draco disapproves of. Draco claims the man disgusts him; he's made quite a few accusations against the fellow. I suspect that's a large part of the reason he's returning."

"Oh." Hermione let her arms slide from around him.

"What is it?"

"Nothing."

"Do not lie to me."

She sighed. "He disapproved of a Pureblood Spaniard Narcissa is seeing. I'm a Muggleborn young enough to be his sister. He and I have never got on. What happens when he disapproves of your seeing me? You want him back here so much, I don't expect you'd risk losing him again."

He found her eyes with his. "I will tell my son that he does not dictate my sex life. I will tell him that he is welcome here for as long as he desires to stay here, but if he cannot accept the changes I have made..." He paused. "If he cannot accept that I intend to stay with you, then he is welcome to live elsewhere."

Hermione looked at him doubtfully. "He'd leave," she warned.

"No, he would not. Draco goes where the power and influence are. At the moment, they are here. He will remain in England until that changes."

"Can you be sure? What if he doesn't?"

Lucius looked contemplative. "I know my son. I am certain."

Hermione eyed him. "I told my friends about us, yesterday. I thought they were going to make me choose between them and you. If Draco demands that you pick-"

He sighed, giving her a look that said he was tiring of the discussion. "Draco will stay as long as the power is here. Whatever objections he has, he will sulk, but he will endure it. I can have you both." He took her face between his hands, forcing her to look at him. "I _will_ have you both."

Not seeing what good arguing would do, Hermione said, "If you're sure..."

"I am. I do not intend to change my mind because he has a fit. I intend to stay with you. Now," he said as if he'd settled the matter, "I can think of a more pleasant way to celebrate than getting upset over something that will never happen." He gave her a devilish grin. "Don't you agree?"

Hermione returned his grin with a seductive one of her own. "I think it's the best idea I've heard all night."


End file.
